


Otherness

by ATimeForeverything567



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Disillusionment, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fourth Shinobi War, Haruno Family, Haruno Sakura-centric, Intrigue, Original Characters - Freeform, Political Alliances, Post-Fourth Shinobi World, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Subtle Opression, World Beyond the Wall, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9187217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATimeForeverything567/pseuds/ATimeForeverything567
Summary: "Is there nothing that you truly desire beyond these walls?" Sakura stared at the man feeling oddly still by his words. "Is a younger replica of a famous kunoichi all you wish to be known for." When the war ends with a Pyrrhic victory Sakura feels anything but peace. But the world is changing, and she will find that not all were meant for this life. Rating may change later.(Going through some major rewriting at the moment!)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this initially started out as a one shot but it evolved. This was originally a Catharsis project that I originally wrote for myself, but with enough encouragement and convincing from my best friend I decided to post it.
> 
> Naruto belongs to Masashi Kisimoto.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of Konoha's destruction reaches the capital, and the Daimyo isn't pleased one bit.

           It was the golden hour.

           It was the time of heaven and bliss, when the very earth was illuminated with ethereal light. It was a time for playful frenzy when children would rush outside their homes, playing within the streets as they savored the last few hours of the day. It was a time for passion when lovers, both old and new, smiled with painful happiness and flushed cheeks. Burning crimson bloomed upon their faces with eyes darkening for the night to come.

           And for the rest, who were neither young or in love, it was a time for rest. It was a time when the old reclined against their chairs, watching in contentment as the skies were set afire with the sun’s final greeting. It was simply a tradition, and no one, absolutely no one, wanted to work during the golden hour. And the head of state was certainly of no exception. The Daimyo, reclining against plush cushioned chairs, was almost across the threshold of sleep as his wife, Madame Shijimi, animatedly spoke of the events of the day. Neither of them noticed the attendant standing at the entrance.

           Mr. Touma was shaking as he waited to be acknowledged by the royal couple. It was a known fact and unspoken rule that the Daimyo was to be left undisturbed during this particular hour of the day. His wife had made this explicitly clear to new servants entering the palace. But this was a matter that needed urgent attending, and though he was shaking in his boots, he knew he needed to cross that lawn, acknowledged or otherwise.

           When he stepped into the golden light, nothing seemed to break the domestic scene before him. The only one that noticed his presence was the cat nestled within the royal consort’s arms. It was in that moment, as he traversed the freshly cut lawn, that he questioned his decision to enter royal service. He was a man well into his middle years, and he had served for most of his life. Yet he will never be used to being in the presence of the most important family in the country. To top it all off, he was known to be a perpetually nervous man whose main goal in life was to remain peacefully unseen, yet the minute he had step foot within the palace, at his ambitious family’s behest, those goals had turned into dust.  Somehow, as a cruel trick of fate, he had gained favor with the nation’s head, and his previous duties have been disregarded altogether in favor of becoming the Daimyo’s private secretary. A position the he constantly doubts that he can fulfill, regardless of how he felt about his position, he still found himself sitting upon his desk, organizing correspondence after correspondence.

           Mr. Touma would have gladly let his Master enjoy the hour undisturbed, might have even taken up the time to indulge in the golden hour himself. The day would have gone by in that fashion had a desperate looking valet not burst into his office with grave eyes and a tiny scroll that carried heavy words. He could still feel his stomach drop when he unfurled the dirty looking parchment.

           He could still feel it now as he smoothed down his salt and pepper hair, adjusted his half-moon spectacles, and flexed his hands twice before clearing his throat to announce his presence. With shaking steps, he finally reached them at a respectable distance, but neither were inclined to acknowledge his presence.

           “Sir?” He timidly asked.

           Not once did the Daimyo stir from his half lidded trance. A soft groan escaped from his lips and his chest slowly moved up and down. It was then and there Touma realized that his master was sleeping, and his wife, Madame Shijimi, was oblivious to that fact. Touma grunted and cleared his throat. The grey cat looked up from its disgruntled stare at him again, fixing him with a peculiar look of pleading. So fixated by the cat’s strange behavior, he had failed to notice the expectant glare of the lady seated at his master’s side.

           “Well? Is something wrong?” said Madame Shijimi, clearly bugged at the servant’s intrusion.

           The secretary snapped out of his stupor, and quickly bowed. The sheer force of his movement sent his glasses jostling to the ground. But he didn’t dare to reach out to fetch them. Not until forgiveness was received.

           “I beg your pardon, Your Highness.” He babbled.

           “It is given, Mr. Touma.” She watched the man with pursed lips as he rose to his full height. Though miffed at the interruption, she knew her husband had a soft spot for his bumbling secretary, despite not knowing as to why that was. For all the years she had been married into the family, Touma was always there at her husband’s side, trembling like a small dog, trailing after him with barely concealed desperation. He appeared much the same as he fetched his glasses from the grass and perched it upon the bridge of his nose once more. 

           “Now tell me, what news could you possibly bring us that could interrupt my husband’s much needed rest?”

           His eyes drooped, a deep frown overcoming his small face. “Forgive me madam, but the ministers require His Highness’ presence at the council room. The nobles must be notified of an important matter of state. You must wake him, ma’am. I’m afraid the issue at hand is most urgent.”

           For a terrible second, servant and mistress eyed one another with the latter unconvinced as she met his pleading gaze. Then it passed. With a soft sigh of reluctance, she reached out and gently shook her husband’s shoulder. Her action was met with an irritated grunt, and with sleepy stubbornness the man continued his nap.

           “Teruo, my love, you must wake up.”

           He turned away from her touch and laid on his side. “It is the golden hour, my darling, surely your charity stories can wait until such a blissful time is over.”

           The small man raked his fingers through his greying hair and prayed to the gods for guidance and cleared his throat.

           “I’m afraid it cannot wait, sir. The people need their Daimyo.”

           He opened one eye, his mouth stretching back to form a tight frown. Of all the times that he had to be disturbed, it had to be during the one break that even he, the Daimyo, was obliged to enjoy.

           “What happened now, Mr. Touma?” He said with a gravelly voice.

           The small man stilled his shaking hands, and with a trembling voice he spoke.

           “It’s Konoha, sir.”

           An exasperated sigh streamed through Teruo’s nose as he sat up to stretch his tired muscles. He was no longer the young man he once was. How could he feel so tired, despite doing nothing physically strenuous today?

           “The Hidden Village, again? What is it now? Is it time to attend one of those dreadful Chunin Exams again? Must I venture to those ridiculously high seats to watch two colored specks fight each other to the death?” He fixed the servant with an easy grin as he moved his head back and forth, easing away the stiffness that had settled within his neck. Untroubled by the usual uneasiness of his secretary, he rose from his chair, aiming for the table ladened with refreshments. Mr. Touma, robbed of any of the courage he mustered up before, simply stood there with the weight of his message stubbornly resting behind his teeth.

           “Well it must certainly be urgent if _they_ need my input. We all know how _proud_ those shinobi are to have autonomy. Why, if it weren’t for those exams, I suppose the village would forget they had a daimyo altogether,” Teruo blithely added.

           Lemons bobbed up and down as he poured the beverage into two new intricately carved glasses. Taking in the shaking form of the man before him, the Daimyo felt a twinge of something foreboding, but he quickly dismissed it. Agitated, after all, was Touma in his normal state, and so the grin remained plastered to his face. He gulped down his tea, savoring the distinct taste of lemons and berries dancing on his tongue, before fixing the small man before him with an exasperated glare. “The gods forbid! Is yet another Hokage fallen during my reign? I swear, I may be the most unlucky Daimyo to ever reign.”

           “Surely not!” Madam Shijimi got up from her seat. Her grey colored cat continued to growl in her arms as she reached out to take the sweet tea from her husband’s hands, a teasing smile revealed the laugh lines upon her face. The poor Mr. Touma, so weighed down by the news, opened his mouth only for dead air to be heard.

           “It’s the village itself, s-sir.”

           "Yes. As you’ve stated before, out with it. You’re gaping like a fish!” The Daimyo, whose nerves have been soothed by the sweetness of tea, was growing impatient with the secretary’s lack of promptness “What happened now?”

           Tomua inhaled, lifting his gaze from the ground. “It has been destroyed.”

           A silence fell in the gardens so heavy that even the cat was muted. Glass shattered upon the paved stone floors and a horrified gasp from the Daimyo’s wife was all it took to break through it. The Daimyo walked back to his chaise and his thin legs collapsed ungracefully onto the plush seats.

           “Madam Shijimi,” he said with an eerily steady voice. “I believe it is around the time you should visit the nursery. I hear our grandchildren have been quite eager to receive you.”

           “But Teru-”

           “I was not asking, madam.” The Daimyo’s tone was gentle but final. And just as his wife was about to retort, with tears of uncertainty welling up within her large brown eyes, a severity, unlike anything that Mr. Touma had seen before on his master’s face, reached Teruo’s eyes. His normally tranquil countenance stretched back and a look of warning removed any thought of asking questions from his wife. This was no exchange between husband and wife, but a command being given between Daimyo and subject.

           The only reply that the Daimyo would accept from his wife was a solemn bow. As she shuffled off back to the children’s apartments, Teruo watched waiting until his wife was out of hearing distance. He turned back to his servant. His spine straightening and his eyes reclaiming the serenity briefly lost. The atmosphere quickly changed, but it was not one Mr. Touma could relax in.

           “Mr. Touma?”

           “Yes, sir?” his voice trembled at the face of this man’s unnatural calm. For so many years Teruo Yuyi, the fourth to bear this name, was not known to have the striking presence of his forebears. In his youth, many at court declared him effeminate and slow. Many of the courtiers believed him to be inferior to that of his many bastard siblings, but somehow, through some miracle, he lived out his life untouched by his stronger and more charismatic counterparts to see himself crowned as the absolute warlord of the Land of Fire. Now, Mr. Touma could see why. There was something quiet and cunning, maybe even something threatening, beneath this soft and skinny unassuming shell.

           “Walk with me.”

           It was three words he didn’t expect the Daimyo to say, and as he watched the old ruler venture towards the hedge way he struggled to move. Teruo paused in his steps and inclined his head towards Touma, the look he gave him was one of carefully-constructed boredom.

           “Well come along, I could use the _exercise_.”

           Touma could hear the warning in The Daimyo’s voice; the tone gave away what his face expertly hid. Teruo folded his hands behind his back, his steps taking on a leisurely pace as Touma scurried to catch up to him, creating two distinct rhythms as they ambled upon the stone paths, cutting through the peaceful silence of the gardens The light was fading, golden tones receding into shadows as dusk overtook the sky. Soon the paths would be lit by lanterns and the softness of the golden hour would revert the world back to its harsh lines and stark colors.

           They walked on in silence with Teruo contemplating and Touma anticipating. It was only when they reached the halfway point of their journey, a cluster of black pine trees that the daimyo finally spoke. When did the attack occur?”

           Touma flinched. “About four days ago, sir.”

           “ _Four Days_.” Teruo bit out. “Why wasn’t I immediately informed?”

           “All the systems of communication within the village were down immediately upon attack. Your Highness was only able to receive this information once they were successful at finally securing a messenger hawk. We’ve been receiving brief messages through said hawk, but only periodically. It may take some time before we can have a better form of communication.”

           Teruo steadily kept his gaze ahead, “And the extent of the destruction?”

           “I have not had full access to the reports as of yet, my Daimyo.” His servant gulped. “But the message states…that it has been destroyed completely.”

           “All of it?” Teruo stopped, whirling around to confirm the truth of his statement.

           “All of it, sir.” Touma shakily repeated.

           His old eyes widened, and even his own fingers began to tremble. He righted his features once more, revealing nothing but a dignified containment of emotions that revealed nothing to his secretary. He continued his walk.  But his mind was something else. A thousand thoughts gushed, like water bursting through a broken dam. A storm was coming, that much he was sure, and the entire country was unprepared to deal with what came with it now that their first wall of defense was down. In fact, Konoha was their _only_ wall of defense.

           A pang of frustration settled along his limbs.  It was not for the first time that Teruo Yuyi, Sovereign of the Land of Fire, felt impotent in the face of danger. He had no control over this matter, not when it came to Konoha and its blasted stipulation to remain hidden _and_ autonomous.

           In his frustration, Teruo sped up his pace. “What of the people? And the Hokage? Is Tsunade Senju still alive?”

           “She is.” Touma hastily replied.

           Teruo’s shoulders relaxed and a sharp exhale of relief shuddered through him.

           “But she has been declared comatose. The village elders have requested that you appoint a successor to temporarily take her place. In fact a candidate has already been chosen.” Touma followed up, catching his breath to keep up with his master.

           Teruo nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned towards winding cobblestone paths that lead to the back entrance of his private study. 

           “I see. And who is the lucky candidate?”

           “It was one Danzo Shimura, sir.”

           Teruo fought to keep his face passive, but Touma knew that his master had an extreme dislike for the man.

           “Ahh yes, the… stoic one,” Teruo said with thinly disguised distaste. “A poor conversationalist that one is. He was never one for charm whenever we would have state meetings. Now Tsunade, though brash, could at _least_ hold a decent conversation. My wife is quite fond of her as you remember.”

           The observation might have been the kindest of comments that the Daimyo could give. Touma knew from their past interactions alone that a lack of charm was the least dangerous factor of Danzo’s undesirable qualities. Silence followed after as the view of the southern tower came into view, its facade stark white against a darkening sky, and Touma knew that once they crossed its threshold and passed the entrance to the Daimyo’s private study, he would not be resting any time soon.

           “And the survivors? How many casualties?” Teruo inquired.

           “Only a few.” Touma sped forth, rushing up the steps to open the small gate that led to a direct path to the study. It was only when the daimyo passed him did he continue. “Tsunande-sama’s last act before collapsing, was ensuring the survival of the people.”

           Teruo smirked. “Cheaters of death the lot of them. Leave it to the shinobi-bred to find a way to withstand a cataclysmic explosion. It’s too bad they won’t share the rest of that information with the rest of us.”

           There was a peculiar hint of bitterness in that last comment. But having been all too aware of his position in life, and anxious to a fault, Touma knew instinctively not to address it.

           It almost seemed like a lifetime when they finally breached his study, and just like every other evening, Teruo resumed his place behind his desk and Touma remained standing, his place across from his master.

           The room was cool and well lit. The large window behind his ornate desk displayed the vast gardens below, and the darkened sky above it. Teruo ambled towards his desk, his footsteps muffed by the ornate carpet below his feet. He swiveled his chair towards him and occupied it just as he would his throne, with great dignity and intimidating power radiating from his unassuming form. Touma wondered why other courtiers couldn’t feel this oppressive aura emanating from the man before him; surely it couldn’t be just him who felt it?

           Whatever ease that Teruo previously excluded melted away as he leaned forward and clasped his hands together. His eyes were hard chips of charcoal, his mouth a severe line carved upon a wrinkled face as he braced himself for more news. The man seated at the desk gave no airs of softness.

           “Your Highness, shall I send a missive to the other lords to gather?” Mr Touma approached the desk. “I know an event such as this would require their immediate presence.”

           Teruo dismissively waved his hand. “Delay that order, Mr. Touma.”

           “But-” Mr. Touma said, before he could stop himself. He realized his mistake when Teruo eyes narrowed into a withering glare.

           “Fret not, Mr. Touma. The Lords will gather soon enough.” Teruo rested his chin upon his folded hands, glaring into the dark wood of his desk.

           Touma waited, watching as the man before him silently calculated his next move.

           “I want to know everything, Mr. Touma. News of the attack shall hold off until I know absolutely everything to know about this incident.” He straightened his back, and clasped his hands together. His eyes were drawn to the smooth surface of his desk, his mind already calculating for the ordeal to come. A beat of silence passed, one filled with tension, before Teruo flitted his gaze back to his secretary.

           He propped his chin on top of his chin and drawled, “Well, I’m waiting, Mr. Touma.”

            Touma snapped to attention, “Right. I’ll go fetch the reports.”

            The man hastily bowed, taking three steps backwards before pivoting his steps to leave the study. He was almost there, his hand already poised at the handle of the heavy doors when Teruo stopped him once more.

            “Oh, and Mr. Touma?”

            The secretary warily turned his head, dreading the words that would come. “Yes, Master?”

            “After you relayed all your reports,” Teruo cleared his throat and leaned back against his chair. “Send a message to Yanagi House. It’s time for an old friend to come over for tea

* * *

 

           “Shall I close the windows, Your Grace?”

           Lian Mai sat across from her, wearing her usual look of eternal disapproval upon her face. Her finger was already placed on the switch, prepared to apply the right pressure on the button at her mistress’ word. Watching the woman fidgeting on her seat in what appeared to be a pant suit of neutral color, Himiko wryly surmised that the action was to Lian Mai’s benefit and not her own. Hiding a smirk behind her ring-adorned fingers, Himiko’s reply was a simple nod. A chuckle loosened from her lips as her lady-in-waiting visibly melted into her seat, relief plain on her face to see. It was rare sight for Lian Mai, champion of decorum and propriety, to display anything else other than restrained boredom or dignified discontent.

           “Even after all these years of your service, I sometimes forget that you are a creature of the heat, Lian Mai.”

           “Forgive me, ma’am. We southern-born are used to a more comfortable climate.”

           Himiko hummed in agreement. Her eyes drifted back to the window, watching the view of a sleeping city as a comfortable silence settled within the carriage.  Summer could only last so long, the winds were proof of that. Soon the trees would boast sunset colored leaves, autumn announcing its presence within the Land of Fire through gray sun-less skies and torrential rains. Then winter would follow, and the snows piling onto the streets like thick white blankets only served as a reminder that she had been in the capital for too many years.

           She closed her eyes and readjusted her shawl around her small shoulders, her mind reeling back to a place where the cypress grew abundantly along the mountains, barricading the lands from the encroaching provinces and their quarreling nobles. She remembered the soothing scent of those evergreen trees, the sheer sense of tranquility that would overcome her senses as she passed under the shadow of ancient trees towering over her. Hinoki, her ancestors called it, named for the very trees that her people relied on to house them from the elements, warm them from cruel, cutting storms, and heal them with precious oils extracted from their needles. Even now, she could smell its spicy scent, the memory of it bringing back scenes and frustrated feelings that would only reopen old wounds. She may be here in Hibana at her Daimyo’s generosity, but her place would always be in Hinoki.

           “Surely he could have summoned us at a _decent_ hour. He should give consideration regarding your rank. Even though he is the head of state, there are plenty of hours within daylight to conduct a private audience, especially with a duchess. What will people think when news breaks out?”

           “I commend you, my dear Lian Mai. But I think imaginations will be quite tame when they hear that an _old woman_ is coming to visit the Daimyo in the middle of the night. ”

           Lian Mai flustered as her Mistress chortled in her seat. Red spots bloomed on her pale cheeks as she smoothed her hands down the fabric of pants, trying to rid her mind of the images made from her mistress’ bawdy allusions. To say she was mortified was an understatement. Scrambling to regain a sense of composure, her spine straightened and she clasped her hands together as she took a steadying breath.

           “What I’m saying, Your Grace, is that it would be more efficient to conduct a private audience during the day. At least then we would have had ample time to prepare! A woman of your repute _and_ station in life should be treated with the proper respect!” Lian Mai vehemently declared. Her slim black brows knitted together, her brown eyes narrowing in resentment as her lips pressed into a thin line. She kept her gaze firmly placed on the space in front of her as if she was lecturing the Daimyo himself.

           It was during her passionate speech that Himiko’s boisterous laughter dwindled down into small giggles. She let out a satisfied sigh with a small smile being the only thing that was left of her earlier mirth. She remained patient in the face of the lady’s tirade; it was only due to honing her patience throughout her long life and years of having this woman’s service that Himiko was able to keep a placid face, nodding emphatically now and then as Lian Mai recited the proper protocols of what to do and what _not_ to do in these particular times. When she finished with a long suffering a sigh, an action that the lady herself would have personally admonished had it been anyone else, Himiko reached through the space of the carriage to comfortingly pat Lian Mai’s hands. Soothed by the action and clearly grateful that her words had been heard by her mistress, Lian Mai’s round face smoothed itself out from her earlier ire.

           “All I am saying is that a duchess, should be treated with the proper protocol and _not_ be summoned in the middle of the night like some common maid.”

           “There, there, dear. We must remember that he has been a gracious host all these years, and from the time I’ve known him, I know that Teruo Yuyi is not a man of whimsy.”

           A silence fell between them at the implication of her words.

           “Do you think something could be wrong?” Lian Mai considered. “Was there any indication of thre-”

           “I don’t know.” Himiko replied, before the lady could finish her question. “Here in this strange land…nothing is ever certain. Nevertheless, despite his graciousness towards my household, we must be on our guard.”

           She steadied her gaze towards her lady-in-waiting, silently impressing upon her a thousand warnings. Lian Mai may be able to rant all she wanted within Himiko’s presence, but when faced with the Daimyo she must not give anything away. Lian Mai gave a shaky nod, her eyes were kept downcast, and her thoughts drawing back to some place far away.

           With the knowledge of what was to come in the following hours, Himiko turned her gaze to the window, watching shadows dance upon the pavement. Black shapes danced upon amber-lit stone, elongating, shortening and disappearing altogether as the carriage made its way down the silent streets of Hibana City. Cold winds blew against the grey stoned facades of buildings, creating strange sounds as they passed through every nook and cranny of the capital city, penetrating through the glass of the window. It was a chill that cut through her, from her well-worn skin down to her old bones hidden beneath soft muscle. She took a deep breath, willing the wish to sleep away from her body and hoping that the sudden chill would invigorate her for what was to come down the road. 

           “Do you miss home, Lian Mai?”

           She cleared her throat, meeting her mistress’ unreadable gaze with misty eyes.

“Every day, ma’am.”

           “I do too.” She turned back to the window, eyeing the massive wrought iron gate that led to the palace. “Send a prayer to our gods, Lian Mai. For I feel them watching us tonight.”

* * *

 

           He sat upon the veranda, feet bare and dangling over the edge with his toes barely scraping the ground below. Koi languidly swam through the black water of their small domain, and he watched their pale bodies, splotched with orange and black, brush against the edge of the surface before disappearing into what seemed like a boundless pool. When the waters would still, he could see the silver Cheshire grin, hanging in the sky, reflected upon the surface and then it would shatter, disrupted by the bodies below. It was the night of the waxing crescent, an auspicious time, according to superstition, for planning schemes of mischief. Boyhood memories of old whispers belonging to an old woman that had once been his governess came to his mind.

            _“The night is a goddess, young Teruo. Hanging there in the sky is her silver eye. Evil grows as it waxes and fades when it wanes. And when her silver eye is closed, shades crawl out, enacting their plans of mischief and discord. Beware the moonless night, for chaos reigns without her benevolent, watchful gaze.”_

           He believed himself to be a man driven by pragmatism and kept steady by logic, but as the memory of his ancient governess replayed in his head, the sight of the waxing moon gave him a sense of foreboding that he could well do without. A benevolent silver eye that floated in the midst of black sky, a tale that should remain within the words of old women and yellowed pages within old books. They had no place within reality.

           He was arguably the most powerful man in the country, and yet the great irony of his position was that when war was upon his people he had no choice but to meet it head on. And a man of war, he was not. He let out a bitter laugh. He didn’t even look the part. He thought of the massive portrait that hung in the halls of the palace, his forefathers stern-faced and imposing, all dressed in fine silks overlaid with gold and silver plated armor, each looking like demigod in their own rights.

           He was the first Daimyo to decline to such a portrait. A decision that did little to soothe the ire of his advisors early on in his reign. Contrary to what his ancestors proclaimed, Teruo didn’t fancy himself a man of godly lineage. His namesake, Teruo I, claimed that his mother was a descendant of the sun god and used such a claim to take the surrounding lands that circled his territory. And he did so by proclaiming that his divine progenitor told him to do so on the pretense that he was carrying out a “heavenly ” will. History claims that people willingly gave up their lands in the face of his holy claim, though anyone would willingly give up their lands when faced with massive armies and mercenary groups at a brash young man’s disposal.

           He wonders what his ancestor would think of him now, this soft bellied, scrawny man who descended from sons that grew soft and fat from years of decadence. A Daimyo was supposed to be a Lord of War, yet Teruo did everything in his power to avoid anything that would lead to it. But in spite of his efforts to maintain the fragile peace that managed to bloom despite the enduring enmity between the great nations, war had sauntered up  to his doorstep, brought on by a group of mercenaries that he had failed to anticipate.

           Akatsuki, the reports had called them, a group of mercenaries that were known to be radical defectors from almost all major hidden villages. A group of radicals who are claimed to have the powers of gods. A group capable of wiping out the only defense that his people have against any outside threat. A group that was now in line to destroying what he had worked to maintain and protect, and he was grossly unprepared to deal with them. A group that he had failed to be informed of by the very village that had sworn at its conception to protect the Land of Fire. But he had no choice but to rely on Konoha, a village still trying to maintain its power despite being literally reduced to a crater.

           He felt powerless, and Touma’s reports had taken their toll. The problem was a tangle of threads, with every pull came more questions and sadly, there were not enough answers. He was in the dark, and as long as Konoha continued its practices, he would remain there for as long as they wanted to be.

           He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the familiar pressure building up in his brain. The doors behind him slid open, revealing Mr. Touma, his head respectfully down low.

           “My Esteemed Lord, your guests have arrived at the Main Gate.”

           He took in a deep breath, and turned back to the black pond with the silver smile. Now was the time to do his part.

           “Prepare the room.”

* * *

           The Tsutsuji Reception room was notorious for being untouchable to outsiders. Only close friends and family were allowed to breach its doors and share the company of the land’s head of state, and even then those were moments far and few between. A rarer occurrence than an appearance of a blue moon, as one would say.

           It was the one place in the entire castle where Teruo could find undisturbed peace from sanctimonious sycophants, complaining relatives, and even his wife. It was a well-protected isolated oasis that seemed untouchable to outsiders, and whenever he was within its walls, people rarely disturbed him.

           And so when the placid faced servant led Himiko and Lian Mai towards the private apartments instead of more neutral places, such as one of the drawing rooms or parlors that were found within the inner palace, Himiko felt mildly amused. She didn’t have to look at Lian Mai to know that her previous ire for this abrupt audience was wiped away by restrained curiosity. Even those who religiously kept to protocol could be briefly dazzled by the unknown and well hidden.

           If anything there was an unrestrained lavishness, a polite way of saying gaudy, to the corridors that they passed through, no doubt Madame Shijimi’s touches to the palace. This wasn’t the first time Himiko ventured through these halls, but those were times long gone, a time where she was younger, stronger, and more naive than she was now. A different man sat on the hallowed throne that his youngest son now inhabited and everyone that she could call a friendly face was either in the ground or too far from her to reach.

           Among the imposing portraits of Daimyos, consorts, and princes long past were trinkets, modern works of art, gilded vases, and the occasional ridiculous feline figurine of bejeweled porcelain. On the left side the large arched windows that line the walls were gold tasseled, velvet curtains that were in a shade of bruised purple. It was a sad mesh of tradition and modernity, and from her peripheral vision, Himiko noticed Lian Mai’s poorly concealed frown as they played witness to the display of--or should they say lack thereof elegance. To say that things have changed since her time at the Yuyi court was an understatement.

           “This way, Your Grace.” said their guide.

           They were led outside through arch doorways leading to well paved paths lined with hedges and maple trees. The gardens were a comforting sight, after living in the city for far too long being in the presence of thriving greenery brought her a familiar comfort. Nostalgia washed over her as they crossed a crimson colored bridge that led then through the neck

           “It seems that our beloved Head of State has commanded us to take the scenic route,” Himiko observed.

           The servant ducked his head, “Forgive me Your Grace, this is actually a short cut to His Highness’ study. The trek may be hard, but we will make good time.”

           Himiko tilted her head, a single eyebrow quirked in interest. “ Oh, well consider me surprised.”

           Lian Mai gave her a meaningful look, her earlier irritation returning with full frontal force. Their trek through the private gardens was not long as the servant had promised, but it was not smooth or easy to take. But before Lian Mai’s patience ran out, they had arrived. And their standing at the entrance, looking like wan, but otherwise awake, was Mr. Touma.

           The servant scurried away, leaving Lian Mai and Himiko to stand alone until Touma descended down the steps. The corners of his mouth lifted into a polite smile before he respectfully bowed as protocol dictated.“Your Grace, on behalf of High Lord Yuyi, I thank you for arriving on such short notice.”

           Himiko gave him a gracious nod, “Your gratitude is welcome, I can only hope I can be of service to his highness, seeing that a summons in the middle of the night can only mean something serious.”

           Touma stood up to his full height and the smile that was once on his face was replaced with a frown, one that he fought to hide once he remembered who he was standing in front of. He cleared his throat and gestured to the doorway behind him.

           “The Daimyo has been waiting for your arrival for some time.” He turned around and opened the heavy wooden doors.

           “I know.” Himiko ascended the steps, clutching her shall to her shoulders as the wind blew against them “His waiting time could have been cut short had he waited until tomorrow, or should I say...later in the afternoon.”

           Touma’s cheeks burned crimson beneath her reproachful gaze, looking more like a chastened child than a grown man as he led her through the slim corridors that led to the infamous room.

           “On behalf of my master, I beg for your forgiveness. There was little I could do to sway his mind.”

           She turned back to look at Lian Mai to see her clearly displeased, had they been alone there was no doubt that the woman would have launched into a full on lecture on the poor organization within such an important institution.

           “And to what do I owe this hasty summons?”

           Touma turned around to address Himiko’s question, but before he could answer he silenced himself with a hasty bow. Teruo stood at the entrance to the room dressed in plain brown robes, his hands clasped behind his back and face poised in a relaxed smile. He gave Touma a nod and the man wordlessly moved to the side to give way to his master.

           “I’ll be the one to inform Her Grace, thank you Mr. Touma.”

           Himiko and Lian Mai knelt to the floor, an uneasy task considering the narrow width of the corridor. Himiko felt her bones creak in protest as her knees touched the floor, but she showed no signs of her discomfort. Weakness was something she wasn’t keen on displaying, even if she had the excuse of old age.

           “You may rise, Madame Himiko.” Teruo ordered.

           Lian Mai got up to her feet and hastily moved to help her mistress stand once more. She had been silent the whole way through, but the moment Teruo had made his presence known, her face had been wiped clean, giving away nothing of what she felt inside.

           “I see you brought a guest with you.” Lian Mai kept her face respectfully downcast as the man appraised her. He didn’t seem pleased or irritated with her presence, but it was quite clear that he didn’t want her here.

           “Lady Lian Mai is quite dear to me. I wouldn’t be able to get through the day if I didn’t have her at my side.”

           “So I’ve seen. But I specifically requested that your presence was the _only_ one that I required tonight.” Teruo admitted, his voice neither kind nor impolite.

           “I know what your missive said, Your Highness. I may be old but my eyes are still capable of reading. She is my aid, as I’m sure Mr. Touma is to you. Since this is going to be a private audience I ask that you provide someplace for Lady Lian Mai to rest comfortably as we wait.”

           “Indeed.” Teruo quirked a single brow before turning to address his secretary. “Touma, inform the maids to prepare two of the guest apartments. If she is to wait, she might as well get some rest for the day to come.”

           “Forgive me for intruding, Your Highness.” Lian Mai said, concern crinkling the corners around her eyes. “Are we to stay overnight? Yanagi House isn’t that far from the castle, and we wouldn’t want to burden your staff-”

           “It won’t be a burden, my lady.” Teruo answered. “Yuyi Castle’s staff is highly trained to take on tasks at a moment’s notice. And please, I have awakened Madame Himiko’s household at such an ungodly hour. It is only right that I let you resume your rest.”

           “But sir-”

           “It’s alright, Lian Mai,” Himiko quickly interjected, “After all, who are we to reject such accommodations from the Daimyo himself.”

           A meaningful look passed between mistress and servant, one tinged with daring and warning. Had she been anyone else, Lian Mai would have huffed before flouncing away, but she was gifted with restraint. And so a terse nod with a dissatisfied glint in her brown eyes was the only thing to suggest that the lady was displeased with the situation’s current arrangement. She bowed once more, this time a tad too exaggerated to be interpreted as respectful.

           “You are very kind, sir.” She drawled.

           Teruo inclined his head, serenity dripping from face and if he noticed the small show of irritation from the lady before him, he didn’t acknowledge it.

           “Rest well, Lian.” Himiko gave her an encouraging smile, softening the features of the lady’s face. Touma scrambled forward, overtaking Lian Mai with barely-hidden exasperation. He mumbled something before tiredly gesturing towards the corridors that led to the hallways that would end with the sleeping quarters.

           “I have a feeling that that woman doesn’t like me.”

           “You must forgive her, Your Highness. You _did_ wake my household in the middle of the night.” She fixed her gaze back to the man at her side, her dark eyes absent of fatigue and shining with interest. “Now, I wish to know why.”

           “You know quite well that I’m not a man of impulse. Never was to be honest.” He pushed the sliding doors open, revealing a room traditional in design with its tatami mats, minimal decor, and a low standing table laden with what looks like a fresh pot of tea, and just as he claimed, all kinds of sweet meats and snacks. “I was always the more cautious of my brothers, a trait that my father didn’t quite appreciate but tolerated. Not that I cared, I was quite content to live my life in obscurity, but as fate would have it, events did not go as expected.”

           “Of course,” she gingerly lowered herself to the _zabuton_ set aside for her, “It is easy to forget that we are rarely in control of what things will be.”

           He poured them tea, the bitter fragrance of it quickly filling in the room. “True, but evidence has shown that Man is quite capable of influencing the outcome of things when provided with the right motivation and of course…resources.” He took an indulgent sip, savoring the taste dancing on his tongue, and Himiko watched, patient as she waited for Teruo to address the matter at hand. “Did you enjoy the new decor? Well, new to you, of course. I know it has been sometime since you’ve last visited.”

           Small talk, meaningless banter, things that she believed she could do well without, but she answered anyway, albeit carefully. “Your wife has such _unique_ taste.”

           He idly stirred his tea with a tiny spoon before popping a small cake into his mouth, “If by _unique_ you mean garish and tasteless,” he said in between tiny, crumb-less bites, “then yes I’m inclined to agree with you.”

           “As the man of the home, I’m sure you have equal say as to what gets to be a not be within these walls. Besides, your mother would have greatly disapproved of what has been done to the private apartments. ”

           “Yes,” He smirked. “She would’ve been quite cross, but seeing that she no longer graces the earth with her fine presence, I’ve chosen to allow my wife to have her free reign.”

           “And I suppose you have your reasons? Yuhi Castle is hailed as the very heart of this country, and it should look the part.”

           “Can’t a man indulge his wife for her own happiness? I have found that subscribing to the philosophy _Happy Wife, Happy Life_ is one of the few sayings that I actually live by.”

           Himiko raised her cup to her mouth, the fragrance filling her nostrils before she flitted her gaze back to the Daimyo.“Even at the cost of your beloved ancestral home looking like a wayside pawn shop?”

           He smiled, his eyes filled with indulgence. “The greatness of Yuhi Castle shall endure past my lifetime. Besides, I have found that happy people make an easier life, even if it means at the expense of my own happiness.”

           “How noble of you.” She placed her cup back on the table. The ceramic hitting wood, but making no sound.

           He tilted his head, watching her in amusement and smiling to himself as if a private joke had been shared. “Nobility is a requirement for all Daimyo to possess. Sadly, as you may know, not many can live up to this standard.”

           She quirked her brow,  unconvinced as she plucked a small cake from the table.“And do you believe you’ve reached such heights?”

           He sighed, casting his gaze to the open veranda.“One might as well pretend until they start believing it. And as an act of such nobility, I have the honor of proclaiming here and now, that you, Himiko the Duchess of Hinoki, are allowed to return to your beloved home.”

           Beneath his mirthful gaze, she stiffened in her seat. “I beg your pardon.”

           “Home, my dear Madame.” He said, as if speaking to a child. “I truly hope that you’ve come to find comfort in Yanagi House, but we both know that you were never meant to stay within the capital for too long. You have my permission to return to your beloved Hinoki with my blessing. ”

           “Why?” She said, her voice shaking.

           The Daimyou leaned forward, propping his chin on his fist. “Do you remember when I said happy people make my life easier? Because something is about to take place that will make my people very _unhappy_ and what better way to soothe such unhappiness than to send their beloved duchess back to her rightful place.”

           Her eyes narrowed.“So there is a condition to my return after all. Very well then, let’s hear it.”

           He took a swig of his tea, flitting his gaze back to her. His eyes were cold, dark chips of onyx and his mouth was severe.

           “War.” He uttered. He did not shout, nor did he whisper, but Himiko felt the blow of that one single word nonetheless. It took every fiber of her body to gently rest her teacup upon the flat surface of the table. She took a steady breath, one that did nothing to steady her at all, and folded her shaking hand upon her lap.

           She forced her hands to still, feeling her palms growing cold and damp, as she shakily asked,“With whom?”

           “A radical group of defected shinobi. All of whom claim past ties with the other Hidden Villages. They are called Akatsuki.” The man with the serene mask was gone, and what was revealed was a tired, old man with hard determined eyes, a bitter mouth, and a steel spine hidden beneath soft muscle. He looked older, uncertain, and grave. “Himiko, Konoha has fallen.”

           “How is that possible?” Himiko’s voice was distant, her eyes drawn to the clean surface of the table top as she tried to pull the fragments of her calm back into her. “Their wall is built to withstand sieges!”

           “They weren’t attacked by ordinary men, madame. It was completely destroyed, literally wiped away from the face of the Earth from one man who, I can thankfully say, is dead now.” He leaned forward and rested his chin upon his threaded hands. “I thought that the age of godlike men ended with the death of Sarutobi Hiruzen. I thought all that was left of those great clans were dust, bone and infertile scions, but I have been sorely mistaken.”

           “Does it make you feel safer at night to know that such beings live at your disposal?” Her voice was cold. Anger, old and familiar, rose from the depths of her being as she said those words.

           But Teruo was undeterred. He was well aware how the southern provinces felt about shinobi. Bad blood that spilled within the annals of this great country’s history had faded into a begrudging tolerance

           “No,” he replied quietly. “It doesn’t. I don’t share the same fascination my father had with the shinobi, even _if_ they have their uses. Rather, I share the same sentiments that your people have.”

           Himiko said nothing in response to that. She unfolded her hands and proceeded to avail of the intricate pastries before her as if the distressing news that he had just told her hadn’t been uttered at all. But something about the purse of her lips and the enduring silence to his statement told him that she remained unconvinced. It didn’t matter to him. He knew what was true.

           “Konoha has taken too many liberties, and now the entire country has to pay the price. Peace has always been so fragile, and now I must do what I can to calm my people’s fears.” He took a deep breath, his shoulder drooping with weariness. “Reports dictate that Akatsuki was already an incessant thorn at Konoha’s side long before this attack, which is something that the village leaders believed was _irrelevant_ to share with my person. ”

           She had seen this type of frustration before, had seen it on a face not unlike the one she was looking at now. Memories of late afternoons in the gardens of her ancestral home drifted into her mind, moments of her lifetime spent placating an ambitious young man too embittered by his circumstances and the state of affairs in his lands to think clearly.  He was too eager to enable change for a land that was unyielding to change, and because he would not succumb to a power that was greater than his own, he was cast away by the very man sitting before her.

           A familiar bitterness settled behind the melancholy that usually accompanied such memories, but she couldn’t afford to show it, especially when faced with Teruo Yuyi. So she picked up her teacup, caressing the saucer with her slim, delicate fingers as he laid bare all that he had learned

           “And now the proverbial beans have been spilled, and while you stew in irritation due to a miscommunication mishap, the Land of Fire remains defenseless and by extension, Hinoki as well.”

           He pinched the bridge of his nose.“We are not without the tools to get things done, Madame. As we speak delegates from all hidden nations are heading to the Land of Iron.”

           Himiko quirked a brow.“Samurai Country? How kind of them to offer up neutral ground. I thought their sentiments towards shinobi kind were less than warm.”

           “Apparently not.” He said with a wry smirk. “ Perhaps they miss wetting their cold blades with the warm blood of their enemies.”

           Her eyes narrowed once more. “Don’t joke.”

           For all they knew that might still be the case. But the samurai of Iron kept to their mountain since the first wars. They managed to keep themselves neutral not only out of choice, but because of the harsh terrain as well.

           He rolled his eyes, a most juvenile, undignified action that Lian Mai would have sneered at. “An alliance the first of its kind is in the making. Of course, they did little to consult me on this matter, but they rarely do, to be honest.” His gaze was drawn to the calm scenery framed by the open doors. His mind was somewhere else. “They still intend to keep things _hidden_ from their own head of state, even if their beloved forest has nothing to hide now, thanks to the Akatsuki.”

           “And here we are now. Two very old people sitting in the middle of the night, trying to reach the point of this little chat of ours.”

           He sighed, deflating like a chastened child under the reproachful gaze of a strait-laced governess.

           “We are both painfully aware that Hinoki is a _unique_ province within the Land of Fire.” He carefully began.

           “Quite, we always do our best to maintain our reputation as the _Jewel_ of Fire.” A smirk graced her features, relaxing the deep lines around her forehead and adding new ones to the corners of her mouth. She gently set down her cup, it contents completely gone. Himiko returned her face to an expression of neutrality, bracing herself for what came next.

           “Yes, how can we ever forget your quaint seaside towns and pristine white sand beaches, but you are terribly mistaken if you thought I was referring to the tourist attractions.” He leaned back against his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Relations between the rest of the provinces and Hinoki have never been…amicable in the past. History dictates that your lands were the last to join under our banner, but in spite of many years passing and the mutual rewards we reap from peaceful trade, ideas of… _secession_ have continued to persist. I fear that news of this unexpected war will only cause this old wound to fester and spread.”

           “And so you want to send me, to not only soothe the fears of my people, but to stamp out these sentiments, correct?” She crossed her arms. “You overestimate me, sir. Not all these whispers will cease with my presence alone.”

           He gave a terse nod and then leaned forward, his dark eyes searching and imploring. “Even so, I am not asking them to cease, just to...lessen.” He leaned forward, energy removed as he made his case.  “I have seen first had what you are capable of once you set your mind to it. You can be…effective, when you want to, of course. And I advise you, dear duchess, to take it to heart when I say that a civil war is the last thing that this country needs in the wake of this threat. Hinoki will not be unscathed from this separation. You understand that, don’t you?”

           A beat of silence passed. Himiko relaxed her slender arms, but her eyes were hard and unflinching. “More than you know.”

           “Excellent.” Teruo said, but neither of the two felt as if they had reached an agreement.

           “But these sentiments…such things are only inevitable when there is a lack of respect for our ways and our traditions.” She huffed with irritation.  “As the Duchess of Hinoki I must _be_ at Hinoki.”

           “You are always granted leave from this place whenever your spiritual duties are called for, don’t you.” He said, placating.

           “It isn’t _enough!”_ Her voice rang within the small confines of the room. Teruo’s eyes went wide, before creasing with equal irritation. Himiko settled in her seat, folding her hands in her lap as she cleared her throat. “ _My_ letters can only do so much where my eyes and ears can do better. You said so that my place is there…as well as another’s.”

           His eyes burned, warning in his voice. “ _He_ is not allowed to return. At least, not yet.”

           “It has been decades, Teruo!” She entreated. “He is old now and I’m not getting younger either. I’ve only seen him for days at a time during days of spiritual importance! He needs to live out his days as _my_ heir. I need my son home!”

           “He may be your son in name, but in terms of blood he is still my brother.” Teruo spat out.

           “Half-brother. His mother was of my people!” She placed her hand on her chest. “You may share the same father, but he is _mine_. Your father made sure of that, when he thought he could silence me by giving me an heir. He came to me a scared and neglected child, and in spite of how he came to me, I love him and I raised him as my own.”

           She was breathless. Tears, long overdue, were threatening to spill, but she she would not let them fall. Not here. Not in front of this man.

           “Blood is blood, Madame.” He calmly stated. “He was my brother well before he was your son.”

           There was an air of finality to way he said through words, but Himiko wasn’t done yet.

           “Do you think he will think the same after all these years? Because I think he will think otherwise after you cast him off across an entire ocean.”

           “ _That_ was necessary.” He bit out. He stood up from his seat, imperiously staring down at her.

           But Himiko defiantly stared him on, her old bones be damned. “ _That_ was exile.”

           “Better to be thousands of miles away, than six feet underground.” He crossed his arms behind his back and walked towards the veranda, the sound of cicadas were ringing in the night. “I took a chance to prevent a loss that would have deeply wounded the both of us, or did you forget? He shall remain where he is and that is final.”

           Himiko closed her eyes. “To what end?”

           He turned back to her, eyes no longer unforgiving. “When I say so.”

           What an answer to hear, it was neither reassuring nor informative, but Himiko was too tired to retort. Old wounds had resurfaced, and in that moment, they waited. Neither of them could find words to say, not when this meeting had unexpectedly breached a subject that they didn’t think they would touch upon.

           “Have you heard from him?” He quietly asked.

           Himiko sighed. If she was a different person, she would have denied him an answer due to spite. But they were both hurting. “Correspondence has been sparse due to the storms, but I know he is well. He longs to return. He tells me every chance he writes.”

           “He will be home, Himiko.” His voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Perhaps, sooner than you think. This war is different from the ones that we have had before. For the first time the Great Nations are willing to set aside their differences in order to combine their forces. I can only hope that this alliance extends long after this war is over.”

           He folded his arms behind his back and moved towards the veranda. A cool breeze breached through the doors, disturbing the temperature within the room.

           Himiko clutched her shawl. “What does this have to do with my son?”

           “There’s a reason why my brother and I have been close despite our differences in parentage. We were supposed to be explorers, he and I. And when such childish fantasies gave way to our realities, our dreams changed but were not unalike.” He turned to her, sadness in his eyes and a smile on his face. “He has a role to play in all this. I let him know as soon as one of your Hinokian ships left the harbor with my letter.”

           “So you intend to use him, then.” Himiko said, flitting her gaze back to the man with a challenge in her voice. “Just like you are about to use me.”

           Teruo ignored her bait. He had enough of her anger and her frustration. “He is willing to be used for the good of this land. Are you?”

           “People are not tools that you can just whip out at your disposal!” Himiko exclaimed.

           “Careful, Madame.” Teruo approached, his movements slow but sure. Once more he stared down at her, his shadow casting a long grey shape across the room. “You know who sits on the throne and you know who has the power to bring your boy back.”

           Himiko lifted her head, old eyes filled with iron. “I’ve never forgotten.” Himiko lifted her head, old eyes filled with iron

           He smiled, pleased by her response. He paced back to his chair, bending down to capture a pastry from the ornate serving plate. “This world is about to change, and whoever wins decides what kind of change that will be, and since I’m not too keen to renounce my title to a pack of terrorists, I intend to do whatever I can to supply the shinobi with what they need. When the tides of war have turned in our favor, when the world is no longer what it once was, only then will my brother return home for good.”

           “And then what?” She watched him pop the cake in his mouth, his jaw deliberately moving slow as he watched her stew in her ire. He swallowed with a self satisfied hum of appreciation

           A cheerful grin bloomed upon his face, his eyes creasing with the action. “I don’t know, but don’t you want to find out?”

           She didn’t share in his enthusiasm, but agreed that aiding the shinobi in their war efforts would lead them to a better ending then one with a madman at the helm. There was also the fact that she now had the opportunity to return home, to claim her rightful place as the Duchess of her lands. _Home. Home was where she was needed most._ Teruo was watching her. She could feel him waiting, anticipating the old woman’s answer. Though, just by the beginnings of that satisfied smirk growing upon his wrinkled face, she could tell that he already knew her answer before she did.

           “So you’ll do it then, return to Hinoki?” He leaned forward, eyes eager and shining with victory.

           Himiko turned away from him, casting her gaze to the wall opposite of her.“How can I refuse, when you make such a tempting offer? Now it is a matter of _when_.”

           “You are to leave tomorrow. This delegation between village leaders will not take long. Shinobi are poor conversationalists that much I’ve observed; they’re too direct and blunt. I suspect they might even announce it today at day break, though unlikely now that I think of it. You must be there when I make the announcement.”

           “Understood.” Her hands clutched the table’s edge, preparing her joints from the ordeal of standing up.

           He held out his hand. She looked at it and hesitated. Had she been a younger woman with bigger pride she would have rose out of that chair herself. But she wasn’t youthful in body anymore, and her bones would cry out in protest if she did it herself. “Your rooms are not too far from here. They have been prepared with everything you need to rest well for the journey ahead.”

           “Thank you, you are most kind.” Though the way she had said it would imply that she, in fact, though the opposite.

           She ambled towards the exit, thankful that this tiresome ordeal was over. The night sky had faded to a slate grey, a prelude to the bright orange that would herald the coming of dawn.

           “Oh, Your Grace.” She paused in her movements and inclined her head towards him. “The carriage will be ready when you are. Sleep as much as you want. Something tells me you won’t rest well in the coming days.”

           The doors slid open for her, and after making her way to the guest room, Himiko settled into her bed, her bones almost sighing in relief as the duvet covered her small weary body. That night she dreamed of cypress trees with songs flying between their branches and embers dancing in the air, and beyond it a raven singing songs of warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like my OCs! I know this chapter doesn't have any Sakura in it but there will be soon!
> 
> Please expect rewrites of the existing chapters as well as some new ones! Just to let reader's know, I will never give up on this story. I just love Sakura Haruno too much to give up on this story that I have planned out for her. 
> 
> I'm trying to get the hang of writing while having a day job, so I apologize in advance seeing that updates will be quite slow. But anyway I have an outline for what's going to happen down the line. Hopefully, that will help with the updates! Well enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Great change is coming. Sakura faces reality and prepares herself for the war to come.

            The war began with a refusal.

            The five great Kage refused to give into the Akatsuki’s demands. She heard Madara Uchiha was unfazed by their defiance. She only knew what people told her, and as of now, she had been told very little. When war had been declared, she was down south in a land where the burning snows of the Land of Iron didn’t touch, far from the grey mountains that surrounded the cold village the Iron samurai called home. 

            She was surrounded by water and great stone pillars that were cracked and on the brink of collapsing. The carnage brought upon them was still fresh, she could smell the smoke emitting from their charred edges. Smoke on ash on dust, she did her best not to cough. Any sound would trigger him, and her chance would be missed. Sakura ran beneath the bridge. He was there below her, clutching his eyes as the violet beast surrounding faltered from sinuous muscle to bone to a mere ominous purple haze.

            He was weakening, and that would be her window. She stopped, taking a deep breath as she dug out a kunai from her pack. She could do it. End it all in the here and now, and the horror and violence he wrought upon their world would be over. With a final breath, Sakura dislodged and she fell through the air. Her hand poised to kill.

* * *

 

            Kakashi looked up in horror. Sakura’s name leaving his mouth as a desperate plea for her to stay back, but she didn’t hear him. He pushed chakra to his legs, silently cursing in frustration as they sluggishly moved forward.

            He would not reach her time.

            It would be too late.

* * *

 

            She stood behind him, eyes burning with her hand out stretched. The tip of her kunai barely brushing the fabric of his shirt. Love was a cursed thing, and she would pay the price for it.

            She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill.

            Sasuke whirled around, arm snaking out towards her throat. She looked into his eyes, panic seeping into her limbs and saw the blood red matrix embedded within the sea of black. But they were muddled, blurry with the onset of blindness.

             His burning hands touched her skin, nails digging into the delicate flesh of her pulse point. Her bones were made of glass, her skin made of paper. She pathetically gasped, a futile reach for air as his fingers tightened around her neck. She struggled to pull his hand away, nails pathetically clawing at his skin. .

            Her toes dipped into the water, a sign that in an effort to get away from him she had ceased the chakra flow to her soles to keep her standing. She felt her body rise up, air brushing against her wet toes.

            Fire filled up her lungs, muscles weakening at every second as his death grip didn’t cease. She heard Kakashi begging Sasuke to stop, but it would be a plea that would go unheeded. He had no master anymore, and mad men do not listen to reason.

            She was dying.

            She was going to die with the sight of mad black eyes, so filled with hatred, embedded in her mind.

She would die and the chaos would continue. 

Colors began to blur together. Her brain pounding with pain against the wall of her skull. It was agony, and it was a mercy too. Perhaps, she wouldn’t die with the image of his hateful eyes in her mind after all.

He raised her weapon. He would return the favor. He would carry out the kill that she could not, and she knew in her bones that he would not hesitate.

            But she never felt the poison she concocted herself enter her blood, nor did she hear the sickening crack of her bones beneath his grip. All she felt was pain as she finally breathed in, and a pair of strong arms delivering her from death.

            It was Naruto. He saved her, but she was not the reason why he was there. Her vision cleared and she saw his blue eyes harden upon seeing her. But they were not trained at her eyes but on her throat. He turned away from her, no doubt locking eyes with their teammate. He skidded to a halt and she almost cried out in pain as her neck jostled with the impact.

            She looked to the boy that almost killed her. Twice she came close to death because of him, and not a speck of remorse was to be found.  She tried to find something within him, a remnant of the cocky boy she knew at the age of twelve. But what she saw was a stranger, a dangerous unhinged man who had told her to dispose a woman that was no longer of use to him. This was a man that couldn’t be saved. The boy she knew was gone.

            Naruto spoke, his voice shaking and fingers digging into her forearms when she didn’t answer him. She nodded when she finally realized he was inquiring if she was alright, though they both knew she was lying. She mustered a final shaky nod and fought the wince that tried to manifest itself at the motion.

            He gently set her down, her chakra settling around her, preventing her from sinking into the water.

            Her kunai whizzed back at them with great speed, and before Sakura could even blink, Naruto caught it with ease. He handed it back to her and she took it wordlessly. It felt strange to hold it, it was an alien weight in her hand. She looked to the new Sasuke standing in the water. His back slightly hunched. His eyes wide and face stained with dust, dirt and dried blood. His face was familiar. Hair still black and styled the same, and that jaw that she once swooned over was still the same shape, but that was all that was left of the Sasuke Uchiha she once knew. What stood there was a man wearing the face of the boy she once loved, and for all the pain and suffering that he brought upon her team and her village, she just couldn’t do it.

            She couldn’t kill him.

            But he could. She was nothing to him. Any false sentiment that she hoped that he could have had for her was brutally burned away by the reality of what had just occurred. But perhaps there was never any at all.

            She let out a shaky breath and tasted blood in her mouth. She found it hard to stand, and released her weapon from her tight fisted grip. Naruto left her side, with the sound of his chakra filling the air, promising more destruction to this wretched place. Her kunai sank to the ground below. She got up from her seat on shaking legs, and with great effort, stood next to her teacher watching the unfortunate reunion unfold.

            She directed her chakra to her neck, letting out a ragged sigh as her chakra tackled the pain on her tender flesh. She could still feel the ghost of his touch upon her skin. The phantoms of pain reminding her of an end that would have been hers, had it not been for Naruto’s intervention.

            Chakra flowed to the damage that had been done within. Veins healed, but her head ached and her lips felt swollen. She swayed on her feet, and she would have fallen had it not been for the steadying grip of her teacher.

            Sasuke’s maniacal laughter filtered through the air and sent a chill running down her spine. She unconsciously stepped back, with her hand still saturating her aching neck with healing chakra, but Naruto remained still. They exchanged words that she couldn’t hear. His stance was relaxed, Sasuke’s filled with tension. Chakra gathered within their hands, and the strange sound of birds chirping mixed with the sound of whirling chakra blurred out all other noise. And without warning, Kakashi grabbed her by the waist and carried her away with great speed. 

             Chidori hit Rasengan. Water violently rippled beneath her feet, and the silhouettes of both boys blurred away into nothing with a sudden flash of white light.

* * *

 

             The battle ends with a promise, and it’s one that did little to bring her comfort.

             Promises. Omens disguised as vows. She’s beginning to hate them.

             But Naruto was resolute in his resolve to die with Sasuke, to take on the burden of his hatred, and finally end the suffering that poisoned his brother from within, even if it mean the cost of his own life.   The vow was made, enraging Sasuke the moment Naruto finished. He kept his black gaze trained on his former team, unwavering and unblinking even as his body was absorbed into Madara’s sharingan

             Sakura closed her eyes. Gusts of wind blowing across the lake, spraying water upon her face. She refused to think about the promise that she now wished he hadn’t made. A promise that their innocent minds didn’t know would result to the ordeal they were in now. A familiar tightness settled within her throat, and an annoying burn settled behind her eyes. She became still, with her ears unable to comprehend the staunch words that he threw to the air for all to hear. Shock ran throughout her body, and she found herself unable to grasp the concept of what he had just proposed.

            He was turned away from her, staring at the spot where their former teammate was absorbed into a portal of dark chakra, and in the silence that followed Sasuke’s disappearance, she was too shell shocked by Naruto’s promise  to notice that he was standing too still. She heard herself call out his name, but instead of hearing her own voice what came out was a harsh wheeze of air.

            “Naruto?” Some part of her voice returned with some effort, and she winced as she repeated his name. At the sound of her voice, he sluggishly turned towards her. His face was devoid of all its warmth and was replaced with a sickly pallor. His eyes were rolling back, and his mouth uttered something, but it was too slurred together for her to understand. Then he stumbled and, without thinking, she moved.

            She rushed towards him, cushioning his fall from the water with her own body. The entirety of his weight fell upon her, causing her to let out a painful wheeze that made her throat burn.  She adjusted him in her arms, moving beneath him so that his head was no longer cushioned by her stomach and her body no longer crouched in an awkward angle. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she held onto him as the lower half of his body began to sink into the water.

            “Get his legs!” She hoarsely shouted.

            Hearing the desperation in her voice, Kakashi did as he was told and grabbed Naruto’s lower half from the water. He placed his feet upon his lap, watching silently as Sakura radiated her healing chakra into his chest. Neither of them said a word. What could they possibly say after what happened before them? The only thing that punctured the uncomfortable silence was the sound of Naruto’s labored breathing, and though he was in pain, the sight of him collapsing before her eyes burned away her shock.

            Her frayed nerves began to settle as she radiated her chakra into his form. Her mind cleared from the haze. Her emotions were pushed back, and medical protocol came to the forefront of her brain, bringing her frazzled self a temporary respite from emotional exhaustion and the fog that came with it.

            It couldn’t be chakra exhaustion. She had seen him do so much more before passing out, and even if he had just arrived from finishing another battle, she knew that Naruto had energy to spare in spades coupled along with the stamina to back it up. It did not help that he was bullheaded to the core, and she surmised that it would be his reluctance to take a step back that would be the death of him. But she didn’t want to think of it now. The memory of what he had just promised was too fresh.  She closed her eyes focusing on the flow of her chakra and his own, and then she found it, the source of his pain and the reason why he abruptly collapsed.

            It was poison.

            And she knew all too well where it came from.

            She almost gasped in shame, but held it in. She was not alone. Kakashi was there, silently keeping watch over his two students. He had played witness to several of her stupid mistakes, and she didn’t want to give voice to her latest blunder. She opened her eyes to search for open wounds. But she could detect none upon his chest, or anywhere else. Her eyes trailed back to his face, and there she found the point of entry. It was a small insignificant cut, no longer than her thumb. Her mind reeled back to the events that had happened before. Somehow, during their altercation, Sasuke managed to wound him with her weapon, and though he was the cause for how it got in his blood, she still felt guilty all the same.

            “Well, what is it?” She didn’t want to answer him. Pride wanted to keep her silent, but duty and guilt made her speak. She steeled herself and kept her gaze firmly on the boy in her arms. 

            “He’s been poisoned.” She tersely replied.

            “I see.” His voice was carefully neutral but expectant. She felt her blood rise and felt that all too familiar whirling of her temper, but it was not directed at her teacher. Rather, it was directed at herself. “How bad is it?”

            At the sound of his inquiry she let out a sigh, suddenly feeling fatigued with irritation bubbling beneath the surface. She took a calming breath, and felt her mind clearing as her brain resorted to sorting out the information garnered from her chakra readings. But she didn’t need chakra to know what was hurting him.

            “It’s an herbal based poison known to cause paralysis and eventually death. The toxin is also known to cause great pain as the body shuts down, but that is not the reason for his collapse. If it were not for his…unique biological makeup and the fact that the dosage was minuscule, he would not be as quiet as he is now. His natural defenses are currently purging it from within his body, but it’s causing great stress.”  She spoke with the cold impassioned tone she would use during medical briefings, and it did well to disguise her nervous rambling.

            As the words spilled out of her, she became increasingly aware of Naruto’s rising temperature and the labored rise and falls of his chest due to his fevered breaths. Sakura turned her gaze back to her teacher. In the face of her impassioned rambling, Kakashi appeared patient as ever, but she knew he wanted a direct answer. She ceased the flow of her chakra.

            “He’ll be fine.” She finally said. “The only discomfort he will feel is a fever.”

            A beat of silence passed before Kakashi nodded and wordlessly shifted to stand. He lifted Naruto into his arms with little struggle in spite of exerting himself in battle.

            “Right, well, we should head to shore. We will need to meet the others soon.”

            Her stomach churned at the thought of seeing her other teammates. There was no doubt they wouldn’t be averse to seeing her again.

            “Besides” Kakashi said, interrupting her train of thought. “I’m sure we could do with being on dry land.” He turned around, facing the shore line, and the last thing she heard before sprinting away from the lake was Kakashi calmly urging her to be quick. She took one last look of Naruto’s pained face, before following in Kakashi’s wake.

* * *

 

            He woke with little fanfare. His eyes opened, and he groaned in discomfort.

             Glaring light pierced his eyes before finally settling to reveal colorful shapes. He saw green. He saw blue. Then he saw pink and a flash of red, and he felt himself let out a breath of relief. Sakura was at his side, wringing a rag and wordlessly placing it on his forehead. Water dripped down his aching head. The world spun around him, yet he was not part of its rotation. He was heavy and light all at once, and she was there, still blurry but standing out in a burst of color.

 

            He was fire and lava and molten rock, a sharp contrast to the lush forest of trees and the lake that surrounded them.

            The watered rag did little to stifle the infernal heat within his body, but it was a better alternative to nothing. He tried to keep his eyes open, hoping in vain that his vision would clear. But it didn’t. Instead the colors began to bleed into one another, creating a disorienting sight that made him shut his eyes, but it was too late. He had seen too much, nausea joined the heat swirling inside him. He let out a pained moaned as he felt her hands take the cloth away from his forehead. He would have protested had his voice worked. But something cool filled his veins. Water quelled the fire, and the burning was gone. He saw a luminescent shade of green against the haze of Sakura’s hair and the world behind her.

            “Sleep.” She said.

            And so he did.

* * *

 

            The next time he woke he was better. Better to the point where he could sit up, now that his world was now steady and clear. His body had healed under the watchful eye of Sakura and her healing hands. He stretched his arms, his back and then his neck, happily finding that there was no more heat or pain to each movement.

            It irked her, somewhat, to find that he could recover so fast after taking such a beating. She didn’t need medical training to know that he should be taking it easy, but when she approached him to deliver her usual barrage of concerned nagging, something had shifted between the two of them.

            “At least just let me check, Naruto.” She implored.

            “I’ll be fine, Sakura-chan. I heal faster than most people. Besides…” His blue eyes darkened at the sight of her mottled neck. He frowned and then returned his gaze to meet her own. “I think you should heal yourself first.”

            And that was that.

            They returned to amicable terms, but it wasn’t the same. There was a rift, imperceptible to outsiders looking on to what seemed to be a friendly atmosphere between two teammates, but where there was once warmth was a polite detached kindness that left her feeling cold. It didn’t help that Naruto persisted to act as if there nothing was wrong with him _or_ between the two of them. But what unnerved her more than the sudden shift in demeanor was that he proceeded to act as if he hadn’t just agreed to die at the hand of his friend, his brother.

            He didn’t say anything about what happened in the Land of Iron. He disregarded the lie she spoke in the snow, but it hovered in the back of her head, breeding feelings of guilt and remorse. She had caused him pain once more, one that left an ugly scar that might never heal and it was in the shape of her lies.

            To become defiled must be painful, but to be the defiler must be even worse.

            But still he spoke to her, and she did her best to remove the bruises surrounding her neck. She adjusted her cloak more than once, hoping to hide what she couldn’t heal. She settled on removing the bruises that were the largest and harshest to look at, the smaller ones would have to heal on their own since other people still needed medical attention, and she only had so much of it to spare. In her mission to use what was left of her chakra on the others, the hoarseness of her voice remained.  They all stared at the macabre markings upon her flesh, and she assured them in her raspy voice that no real damage had been done. At least she hoped.

            But she couldn’t focus on that now.

            With the group finally gathered, Naruto told them with somber eyes that the Great Five Kage had declared war on the Akatsuki. She didn’t ask if Sasuke had joined the enemy’s side. She already knew the answer when he disappeared into the swirling vortex of Madara Uchiha’s Sharingan and she felt pain. More for him than for herself.

With the somber announcement over, coupled with the added presence of his other teammates, he was back to his usual self, the annoyingly cheerful and sunny personality that in childhood she would do her best to ignore, but in her present age it was something she needed, and she found herself envious of him for it.

            It was so easy for him to keep his views towards the future. The same couldn’t be said about her.

            He made it look so easy. But she knew him. She _couldn’t_ believe how much she knew about him.

            In that godforsaken lake, he had aged in a matter of moments. The sixteen year old boy who she knew so well, foretold his own death.

            Death and Naruto, what a thing to think about. If anything, he had been fighting it all his life, and courting it many times thanks to his reckless nature. To know that he would accept such a gruesome outcome _willingly_ brought her no comfort. It only made her scared, and uncertain.

            Her mind knew what she had to do, and that was to put her trust and faith in him. But her heart was never as strong as her mind. She wanted to ask him many questions, but she knew she wouldn’t get the answers that she needed. To do so would be selfish, and what was the point of lying to herself.

            The first hours of their journey back were spent traversing the forest in a comfortable pace. They did not take to the trees to travel back to the village due to members of the party being in desperate need of recovery. And even if they could travel back at greater speeds, her neck was still tender, bothering her with stings of pain when she moved it to fast.

            And all the while, Naruto continued to smile, and joke, and tease in an effort to lighten the mood. She didn’t know if it was for her sake or his own. All she knew was that that his blue eyes were not as bright as they once were, and it hurt her more than he will ever know.

            War was coming, and she knew what this feeling was. She felt it before every mission and before every battle. It was the eerie calm. The unnatural quiet that allowed the cacophony of thoughts within her mind to throw her off balance. It made her tense, and it made her worry. It also made her silent.

            No one spoke a word to her throughout the duration of the journey, save for Kakashi, who gave her orders. But perhaps it was better this way. She had no words to say.

            Naruto grew silent as the hours past, and so did she. But this impasse between them did not stop her from observing her teammate. This was not the kind of stillness brought on for meditative contemplation. But each time he would meet her concerned gaze, he would chuckle and tease her for being such a worry wort. So she kept her distance, for now.

            The entire party broke off into separate groups. The other members of the rookie nine kept their distance, and she couldn’t blame them for wanting to do so. She did use noxious gas on them. Naruto stood at her side, staring into space as his skin grew white.

            Awkwardness be dammed, she couldn’t stand the sight of him being in pain for too long.

            She reached out, grabbing the fabric of his sleeve, silently willing him to face her. “You _need_ to rest. I mean it, Naruto.”

            He stiffened at her touch, and a silent battle of wills sparked between them, but she knew she would win. And, he knew it too. He chuckled in the face of her concern, and continued to tease her for being such a worrywart even as he lowered himself onto the ground, his blue eyes eagerly closing as he finally allowed his body to rest.

            Sakura unbuttoned her cloak and draped it across Naruto’s sleeping form.  She did what she could to ease the filth out of his body, but there was nothing she could do about the fatigue that came with the aftermath.

            He looked like he was at peace. But looks have deceived her before. She placed the palm of her hand against his forehead and felt the sickly warmth that radiated off of his skin. For all his smiles and quips the poison took its toll and Naruto carried it with an ease and grace that fooled even her. It seemed that his fast recovery was too good to be true. She retracted her hand from his feverish skin and the movement caused him to fidget in his sleep

            She kept vigil over his form placing wet rags upon his flushed skin to keep his fever down and let him take small sips of water when he would drowsily beg for it.

            She believed in this boy, but something had been sown deep within her. A seed that had latched onto her and was growing with every passing moment like a parasite. It was doubt, feeling it made her a traitor. Her younger self would have been appalled to what she was feeling now, but she couldn’t deny that it was there. She desperately wanted to believe that Sasuke could be saved, that somehow things could get better, but she couldn’t see it. How would things be if she only pushed her blade into his body?

            She was once resolute in her resolve to kill Sasuke, and all while she traversed the land with her fellow comrades, she was preparing herself to end him. To think it was effortless. Planning it was easy. Conjuring up images of how it would be carried out was her constant companion throughout the journey. She had thought up of different scenarios. They were vivid and they were on repeat in her mind, a visual mantra one would say. It should have been easy. She only had to catch him at his weakest and then deliver the blow. The poison would have done the rest.

            She had imagined his death perhaps a million times, and watched as her imagined self stood over his convulsing body. Her kunai drenched in his blood and his choked breaths leaving him in pain. She watched in detached coldness, but her imagined self was not her true self.

            She had faltered, and almost died.

Warmth brushed over her fingers and she turned to Naruto once more, in his sleep he had grabbed onto her fingers. He tugged and breathed out the word ‘water,’ effectively snapping her back to medic mode. She grabbed the canteen at her side and lifted his head. His drowsy state did nothing to stop him from drinking almost half of the canteen. He coughed and sluggishly pushed it way.

            “Idiot, you drank too fast.”

            He didn’t even reply, he simply slept on. She carefully laid his head back against tree root, and felt his temperature again. He was still warm, but not to such a degree to cause worry. His natural immune system was now kicking in, and the only to ensure a full recovery for him was to simply let him rest and that is what she did.

            She had only ended one life, and it was a death she remembered so clearly, Sasori of the sand. Killing him was like destroying an object, he was barely human. The vestiges of his former self were mutated in an effort to escape death and in turn, he was turned into a parasite, and no longer anything that was human in her eyes. She felt no hatred for him. Perhaps, maybe a little of pity for what he once was. The same could not be said for Sasuke.

            Would Naruto hate her for what she had done?

            She didn’t have the courage to ponder on it, and so she focused on something else. The canteen was light by the time Naruto asked for another drink. Only a few drops of water was left, and the blonde was still flush with fever and begging for another drink.

            “Kakashi-sensei?”

            Her silver haired teacher was speaking with Yamato in hushed tones and at the sound of her inquiry, he looked up and didn’t say a word.

            “There is a stream not too far from here. I was thinking of purifying some more water for Naruto.”

            He gave his assent through a single nod and without preamble she was off.

* * *

 

            She reached the end of the copse and entered a small clearing where a stream ran through. She knelt at the stream’s edge and dipped her fingers into the cool stream. Her skin felt raw and hot, and the flesh was slightly pink. She forewent the canteen at her side and splashed water onto her face and took a deep breath. She kept her hands on her face and closed her eyes. Somehow the fact that she was physically alone, at last made her head clearer and her chest lighter. She untied her head band and raked her fingers across her hair.

            The more south they moved away from the Land of Iron, the more warm it was.

            She was glad for it.

            Snow and the cold brought forth new memories she was not proud of making. Her fool of a friend was still smiling, but she could not. Of all the things she could have said, she told a lie instead of the truth. She fixed her eyes on the metal plate of her headband and ran her fingers across its surface. Her green eyes could be seen in its reflection, and she saw that they glistened with unshed tears. There it was again, the urge to cry, something she had been doing all her life when it came to her boys. She slammed the headband down, making sure that the metal was face down.

            Now was not the time to cry. She had already shed more tears than was necessary. She splashed water on her face once more and swallowed the tell-tale tightness forming in her throat. She grabbed the canteen and filled it to the brim. She capped it and got up to her feet, that is until instincts told her she was missing something. A flash of red flared in her peripheral vision, she turned and saw her headband still placed face down upon the wet stones.

            She found herself at the edge of the stream again. She wrapped her hands around the headband and tied it the usual way. The stream was clear enough to see her reflection and the pale green eyes of her own face stuck out against the paleness of her skin. She felt heavy, cemented to the ground and yet her head felt weightless.

            She saw herself staring back and saw everything, the anger, the fatigue, the sadness, the shame. She smoothed her fingers down the length of her forehead, a gesture she had done so many times throughout childhood brought about by an irrational fear that it would swell as she slept. Countless nights were spent with her fingers pressed hard to her forehead, as if by sheer will she could bring it down to a “normal” size. But it wasn’t age old insecurities that caused the gesture, rather, it was the thing hidden beneath her skull, constantly being filled with energy.

            The Strength of a Hundred Seal, a jutsu known to be mastered only by Tsunade herself, and now her own jutsu master. For three years she had spent diverting chakra to a single part, trying to reach a level of power that would have made her an equal to her own master in terms of strength. It would have been a game changer, a trump card she had in her arsenal, but she couldn’t use it yet. She could hear Tsunade’s voice in her head, her tone brash yet strangely patient as she chided her.

            “ _Your mind must be clear when you activate it. Otherwise the sudden overflow of chakra could overwhelm your system”_

            Her mind wasn’t clear then and it wasn’t clear now.

            She looked into her own eyes, watching her reflection ripple with the current. So many feelings, so many facets, and she stared until she could stare no more.

            She got up from her place and went back.

            Kakashi was kneeling at Naruto’s side with his hand placed on his forehead. His one eye crinkled at the sight of her, it was the closest equivalent to a smile he could offer.

            “You think he’s strong enough to be moved?” Though his question was for Naruto, his real intention was to examine his only female student. He watched from the moment the whole ordeal was over and so far she had kept herself reticent, and he knew just by sensing it that talking about it was the last thing she wanted in that moment. So he did what he was trained to do in that moment, he gathered what information he could and would use it for later should the need arise.

            Sakura was oblivious to the subtle attentions of her teacher. Her focus, despite the slight fatigue in her bones, was still razor sharp and currently directed at the sleeping boy between them.

            Naruto’s complexion was still as splotchy as before, but his breathing was easier. He slept untroubled since he collapsed upon the forest floor, and no one dared to wake him up. But even if one did, he was too far gone in slumber to be roused from sleep.

            She examined him in this state, knowing that it would be easier to do so without him fussing over her as he would usually do. She went through the motions mechanically and methodically radiating her chakra into his system to read the hidden language of the body. After mere minutes she finally spoke.

            “He can’t be moved. Forcing himself to needlessly endure will bring more harm than good. Besides, he isn’t the only one that needs to rest.” Kakashi Hatake was still young, and yet he looked twice his age. His eye was outlined by a grey circle, and his shoulders were hunched forward. Though he proclaimed himself to be alright, she could tell by his labored breathing and his slight limp that he was in fact lying. “It’s alright to tell me you’re not feeling well, I _am_ a medic. You’re showing clear signs of chakra exhaustion and you know better than anyone else what needs to be done in order to recover.”

            He held up his hands in submission.  “Alright, alright. Looks like we’re camping for the night.”

            As Kakashi got up to inform the group of a change in plan, she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before replacing the rags on Naruto’s head once more. His soft snores filled the clearing and his fever was almost gone. It may not have disappeared in an instant, but it was certainly fading away at a faster rate than most. Who knew that being the living cage of an ancient beast would bring so much health benefits? He was supposed to be anything but fragile, but anyone could be killed. Even him.

            She looked at his face and tried not to imagine the puffs of air forever leaving his lips, his chest not moving from the inhales and exhales, his blood seeping from a gaping hole in his chest with electric chakra still singing in the air. She turned away, the image still burning in her mind.

            Her resolve was certain now.

            There will be no death for this boy, not if she had anything to say about it. He still had a dream to fulfill and too much pressure on his shoulders for a boy who was only sixteen. But did she have to power to sway the outcome of things? She had practiced all her life to pull someone back from the jaws of death. She believed it was the only thing that would be of use to him.

            Changes were coming upon them, but Sakura wasn’t certain if she was ready for it. But then again was anyone?

* * *

 

             When she arrived at Konoha’s front gates, she convinced Naruto to hold off on the meeting of their friends in favor of getting a few hours to recuperate after their mission. Tensions may have receded with time, but it was too soon to see the others after her latest blunder.  She felt unhinged, a weightless being that was floating too high and she needed something to ground her before she was lost forever, and so she thought of home. She did her best to hide the desperation in her voice, but if Naruto noticed anything amiss, he made no mention of it.

            He gave her a look, one tinged with concern and it was a look she felt she didn’t deserve, not anymore. Not after what she almost attempted. He effortlessly morphed the look into an easy grin, which did nothing to ease her out of the guilt she carried, but still she felt grateful nonetheless. She agreed to meet him with the rookie eleven, but made no mention as to when, before hurriedly speeding off to the tent that became home to her parents.

            From what she noticed, the organization of temporary living quarters was similar to the layout of the village. She past the tents marked for Clan ninja, their banners waved in the air, baring their family emblems for all the see. The makeshift hospital was in the middle of it all, as well as the Hokage’s tent. She passed the tarp with a crudely drawn red circle, the symbol for all who were not clan within Konoha, and made her way through the crowds.

            All the temporary shelters were made out of the same dark green colored tarp. The only thing that could help people distinguish which tents were theirs were the painted numbers on the front of the tents. She was directed to tent twenty-eight. With trouble, she navigated through the small passages and the thick crowds searching for loved ones and receiving supplies from the administration’s tent. Finally her eyes spotted the number twenty-eight, and she eagerly ran towards it. It wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small either.

            She ripped the flap open to see her mother readying the plastic table for lunch, and her father kneeling on the floor gathering what belongings they had left into a plastic crate. Their eyes widened at her unannounced arrival, but they smiled nonetheless with unbridled elation. Without preamble she ran into her father arms, pressing her face into the fabric of shirt as he wrapped himself around her. For once she wanted to feel like the child she still felt she was, and not the adult that she pretended to be. Her mother’s voice, usually tinged by the ancient exasperation all mother’s carried for adolescent children, was oddly soothing. She let herself smile at the sound. Her mother’s hands smoothed down her hair and her father’s arm tightened around her. She felt safe around them, and it’s a sentiment that she doesn’t express enough.

            Shinobi children were supposed to be strong at an early age and in an effort to be the picture perfect academy graduate she put on airs of professionalism and put distance between her and her parents. It was a foolish decision to make, but she wasn’t twelve anymore. So much has changed.

            She ignored their concerned questions. There was a selfishness to the way she relished in the warmth that they freely gave, but she couldn’t be selfish for too long. News had to be shared, and after what had happened lying left a bad taste in her mouth.

            She lifted her head and distanced herself enough to look both of them in the eye. A tightness settled in her throat and she swallowed.

            “Konoha has declared war on the Akatsuki. I am to fight alongside my friends.”

            Within that tiny space, she could only feel her nerves become rattled as silence bloomed around. There was a mixture of emotions emanating from her parents, and so she straightened her spine as she looked straight at their faces.

            She wanted to look fierce.

            She wanted to look proud.

            But in their eyes there was only sadness and fear. It was one thing she could not hide, for they saw right through her and she felt ashamed to show it.

            But they did not scold, nor did they look disappointed. Her mother let out a sharp gasp and her father wrapped his arms around her once more with his arms rigged with tension. They huddled there together wrapping their arms around each other, as if they could shield themselves from the war looming behind them. But war had only been declared and the battles were just around the corner had yet to come to pass.

            She stepped away from their arms and took a deep breath. She forced a smile to her face, trying to break away from the potential melancholy that would have settled within their tent.

            “Do you want to talk about your mission, sweetheart.”

            Images flash to manic black eyes, fingers tightening around her throat, the concussive force of their combined attacks, Naruto’s declaration of his death and her throat tightened once more.

            “No.” There was a finality to her tone that caused them to tighten their hold on their only child. “I’m sorry Mom. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s alright.”

            Her father smoothed down her hair, casting his gaze down his form looking for injuries. Her neck was bare for all the see, and the bruises had yet to fade. He stiffened, his warm blue eyes shining as he saw the mottled state of her skin. Throughout the whole journey back, she had been so focused on the recovery of others that she neglected to take care of her neck.

            “What is that, Sakura?”

            Her mother raised her hand, but before she could lay a hand on the marks of her shame, Sakura abruptly stepped out of their embrace. She enclosed her palms over the skin and hastily pumped healing chakra to remove the bruises from their sight. It was bad enough to be subjected to the scrutiny of her teammates, she didn’t need any more reminders of her failure beneath the concerned gaze of her parents. There worry only made it worse.

            She swallowed a lump, clearing her throat.

            “Sakura what happened on your mission?”

            It was her mother that asked the question. She stepped forward, approaching her daughter as if she was a frightened animal. There was a sadness to her eyes and compassion in her intentions, and all the while her father stood, his blue eyes trained on her trembling palm, seeing through the meat and bone to see the ugly marks she was shielding from them.

            And like a damn finally bursting after being subjected to so much neglect to its care, something broke inside of her. But it wasn’t the tears that she desperately wanted to shed, all that was left was rage, rage at herself, rage at her stupidity, and rage for it all.

            “Don’t!” Her voice filled the tent, quiet but filled with anger. “Don’t look at me like that!”

            She expected her mother to retaliate, to yell back in equal volume at the sight of her only child out rightly disrespecting them. But instead her voice was calm, cool and filled with aching gentility that only made Sakura feel more disgusted with herself.

            “How are we looking at you, Sakura?”

            Her father remained where he stood, silent as always but filled with tension and helplessness.

            “You’re looking at me like some kind of failure!” She bellowed. “Like some weak insignificant creature that needs to be constantly protected because she’s stupid and-and weak.”

            “You are _not_ weak.” Mebuki soothed, reaching out once more. “I didn’t raise a weakling and the Hokage didn’t train one either.”

            “That doesn’t sound true.”

            _Don’t you see mother, my efforts were all for nothing?_

            “But it _is_ true. I know it is. _You_ know it is.”

            Nothing that her mother sounded true, but she didn’t come here to yell at her parents. They were innocent, exempt from her own failings and shortcomings. But the anger remained, festering inside her wanting to spread, wanting to cause pain, to ease the frustration and rage that was growing within of her. She always had a temper, being under Tsunade’s tutelage taught her to let go and let herself feel what she wanted to feel, anger included. It had felt liberating to finally say what she felt without fear of retaliation or ridicule, but this was different. Taking her anger out on her parents wouldn’t make her feel better, it would only make her feel worse than she did now, and there was only so much that Sakura could take.

            She could yell and scream as much as she wanted and watch the hurt, that she so desperately want to cause, mar the compassion that they had for her. Her mother would yell back, patience gone and replaced with retaliation. They could scream at each other for hours, their arguments steering away from the subject at hand until they were flinging insults designed only to wound. Her father would stand by, silently watching in complete helplessness as the two most important people in his life relentlessly slashed at each other, uncaring that they were damaging each other. It was easy to fight with family. The limits to what you could say to them were always undefined and never clear because love made it hard to see these things. Deep down inside, the knowledge that they would never leave her, made it easy to hurt them.

            But what good could come from this?

            She would become a monster in their eyes, a monster that they had no choice to love because no one else would, or because they had loved her for too long to feel anything else. Love and blood would always bind them together, but there would be no warmth, only fear, an ever present wariness. She could say her piece, unleash a thousand words to cause them pain so that her own frustrations and suffering would be appeased in some sick form of catharsis. But it would be another stupid mistake, another personal failure brought on by the wrong assumptions and her own overestimation of herself.

            Yes, they would always love her, but the warmth would be gone. There would be distance, a wariness with each other brought on by a fracture of her own making.

            Nothing good would come from hurting them.

            She breathed and closed her eyes, climbing the ladder of reason to leave the pit of anger and despair behind. There was enough pain in the world. She didn’t need to add more to it. Seeing her daughter reenter a state of calm filled Mebuki with the confidence to take the hand at her daughter’s neck to hold it between her own two hands.

            “Whatever happened during your mission doesn’t need to be discussed.” Sakura kept her eyes trained on the red buttons of her mother’s collar. She kept her breaths steady and slow, and didn’t fight her mother’s embrace the moment her arms wrapped around her shoulders. Kizashi followed in his wife’s stead, raising his large warm hands to brush strands of her pink hair away from her face.

            “No one is expecting you to, Sakura.” He finally said. “We just…want to know if you’ll be okay.”

            What a question to ask. The answer alluded her. She didn’t know what to say to them. To tell the truth would mean sharing the fact that she felt the opposite of okay. But they were worried, beside themselves at the sight of their only child clearly shaken and injured, to tell them the truth only meant that they would be causing them more distress. And so Sakura wordlessly nodded, a simple small gesture that did nothing to convince her parents that she was _okay_ , but they let it slide.

            “You’ve had a long journey.” Kizashi led her to the plastic table, and pulled out a stool for her to sit on. “You should eat and rest.”

            She didn’t feel hungry in the slightest, nevertheless she sat down and watched as her mother filled her plate with a heaping amount of steaming rice and thin dried fish. They sat themselves down on either side of her while she studiously focused on putting food into her mouth. She tasted nothing and the food fell into her stomach like wet cement.

            There was a new kind of tension that settled within the tent, a terrible awkward silence punctuated by the sounds of the ongoing controlled chaos of the people moving to and fro around their small tent. Sakura casted her gaze upon her surroundings and found that nothing had changed much since she left. Their meager belongings were shoved in cardboard boxes that were kept in the corner. The hot plate her mother was using earlier was set up on what looked like a small wooden table that was kept opposite of her parent’s bed and her sleeping bag. She spied a green arm bad hanging upon one of the bed posts, and there Sakura was reminded of her father’s work up on the rim.

            “How was the rim?” Sakura said, absently pushing her food around in her plate.

             Kizashi looked up from his plate, carefully regarding her with cautious blue eyes as he worked through a fat spoonful of food. Her mother tensed at her side, but continued to eat. Her father swallowed his food and offered her an easy smile. Her father was never one for tense situations. He had a keen sense for avoiding them or pretending that they weren’t happening altogether. Conflict was something that he spent every chance of his life to avoid, and he did it well. But it confused her constantly seeing that he married a woman who wasn’t afraid of confrontation. In the past years of her life, she had never seen her father raise his voice. The only time that his voice ever boomed across the room was when he laughed, usually at a joke of his own making. Every time her parents would argue, her mother would yell in frustration while her father would reply in such a cool detached manner that only served to make her mother angrier, resulting in her mother giving up in an exasperated stupor.

            Sakura was giving him an opening to do what he did best, and that was to step in and distract his two favorite women from their worries with a couple of bad jokes and an accompanying anecdote about his many customers at his repair shop.

            She needed something to feel normal in all this mess and she needed him to carry it out.

            “It was fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. The only difference now was that there are more people doing it with me. How do you kids say it? I guess you could say I was junk diving before it was cool.”

            He gave her a wink before resuming his voracious devouring of the meal before him.

            “Your father’s always up there.” Her mother said, exasperation thinly veiled. “Dawn until dusk. Rooting around the wreckage, looking for knick-knacks and junk.”

            “I come home to you for lunch, don’t I?” He said through a mouthful of food.

            Her mother gave her a side glance, paper cup poised in her hand with the corners of her mouth lifted up with quiet mirth, but dark green eyes tense. “He comes home to me so I can watch him inhale food for thirty minutes.”

            Kizashi leaned forward, plastic spoon pointed towards his wife. “Don’t forget the extra five minutes where you watch me digest.”

            Mebuki rolled her eyes, “Ah yes, how romantic.”

            He shrugged, flipping his hair. “You’re just that lucky, babe!”

            Mebuki scoffed, throwing her empty paper cup at her husband as he stuck a dramatic pose. “Keep dreaming, Haruno.”

            “Only of you, my love.” Her father swooned.

            On any other day, Sakura would have joined her mother in teasing her father, maybe even laugh at his corny jokes when the sheer stupidity of it was too much to handle, but on this particular day she simply watched, small smile plastered to her face. She found that no words to say to them, but she was thankful. After everything that had happened, after everything that she had done and said, _this_ was the only moment that felt right and normal and safe. She could see their concern, it amplified everything they did. Her father was more playful. Her mother’s feigning of irritation was made more obvious. But they were trying to make her feel better.

            So Sakura smiled through the heaviness in her throat, supplied banter where she could, and she squeezed back when her mother grasped her hand under the table. She clung to her mother’s hand like a lifeline.

            It was then and there that Sakura decided that she didn’t need to burden her parents with her own pain. She reasoned that they already had enough to deal with. She knew that they both worked from dusk till dawn, earning their keep, contributing to the effort to rebuild their village. And now war was coming. She couldn’t afford to lash out like a child or feel like one either. She would have to stand on her own. She would never show weakness, not even to her own parents. She would make sure that the child they made wasn’t a burden, a person who never cried to their faces, who never let her pain show through, who always dealt with her problems without hurting anyone in the process.

            She would be strong.

            Sakura smiled.

            Sakura laughed.

            Sakura promised that she would never make the same mistakes again.

            She let go of her mother’s hand, ignoring the subtle downward shift of her mother’s smile as she did so.

            Sakura would have to stand on her own.

            Parents could see far more than they let on. The hubris of youth made children believe their parents were incapable of understanding the complexities of who they were becoming. But they were wrong. And as Kizashi and Mebuki teased one another in an effort to distract their shaken daughter, they noticed something transform within their only child, but in that moment they did not know if it was for the better…or for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been rewritten and updated as of July 23,2018.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I forgot to put this in the summary due to the fact that I ran out of characters, but this is a Sakura centric fic. Sure I’ll put scenes in which it will be written in someone else’s point of view but the central character is Sakura Haruno. Dear reader you probably won’t read this, but it’s alright. I realized something last night as I was about to go to bed. Sakura’s lack of character development is a blessing in disguise, her lack of character development means that Sakura can be whatever we want her to be. Though upon writing this now, it’s pretty obvious seeing that’s the magic of Fanfiction. Well anyway dear reader enjoy!  
> P.S The first five chapters will be focused on the war, seeing that I have extended the timeline.  
> Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

Sakura was a stone upon a river bed. The water rushed over her and every time she felt the currents pass above her, her skin burned and tingled. She laid there enduring the pain of the unforgiving current and watched the light of the sun through a watery lens. The waters cut through her and pressed down against her unmoving body until her skin was raw. She wanted to move. She wanted to scream. But she couldn’t, the river was relentless. On an on it flowed without mercy. She silently begged for deliverance but her lips could not be moved, and even if she were to cry out who was there to hear her.

A pale hand burst through the surface of the water shattering the dance of lights and disrupting the river’s flow. It wrapped against her body, and she felt her limbs gave way. She was flesh, blood, and bone once more. She could move, she could scream, but still she could not breathe. She closed her eyes and thrashed against the white hand holding her, and with great force she felt a breeze brush against her raw skin. She felt the air wrap around her soaked form, save for her submerged toes. She shivered and opened her eyes, and she found angry blood red eyes staring back at her.  His fingers dug into her throat with his nails digging into her flesh, she screamed but all that came out was a bloody wheeze. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and before her vision truly disappeared she heard a sickening crack.

Her eyes snapped open with her hands flying to her neck. She breathed in the air around her and tasted not blood, but smoke and salt. Daylight had already pierced through the slits in the tent, signaling that it was already mid-morning. She heard the crack and immediately stilled. But it was only the sound of oil frying upon metal. Beneath the blanket that divided their small tent she spotted her mother cooking breakfast upon the hot plate in the corner of the tent.

“Morning Sakura! Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and hunched forward. She was here in the tent. She was not in the Land of Iron. Sasuke wasn’t here.

“Well good!” She flinched.  Her mother peeked out from the divider with spatula still in hand. “Because that’s the last time I let you sleep in. You already missed your father. Go on get ready it’s almost noon!”

“Yeah mom, just give me a moment will you?”

A bowl of water was perched upon a stool next to her sleeping bag. She pushed the blankets away and sluggishly walked to the basin. She splashed water on her face and grabbed the plastic hand held mirror leaning against one of the legs of the stool. She crouched and looked at the skin of her neck. It was smooth and pale, absent of any macabre finger prints. She ran her fingers across her neck. The bruises may be gone, but sakura still felt his long fingers digging bloody crescents into her skin.

She dropped the mirror. She looked down in confusion only to find her hands shaking. She clasped her hands together as images of Sasuke flashed through her head. She took deep breaths, but she found that the more she tried to banish thoughts of him the more he appeared vivid within her head. She heard the water dripping on the background, the sound of Kakashi’s sluggish steps upon the lake as he desperately pleaded for Sasuke to stop his assault, and the ringing in her ears.

“Sakura?”

She jumped and turned around to face her mother. The table was set for three and the food was still steaming. Her mother’s hand reached out to brush stray strands of pink hair and she forced herself to stay put underneath her mother’s touch.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t answer me. Is everything alright?”

She pulled at the hem of her shirt and kept her eyes down cast.

“You’re shaking. Hey, look at me Sakura.”

The ringing in her ears intensified, and her hands began to sweat. She felt two hands being pressed against her face and without thinking she slapped them away. She opened her eyes to see her mother’s face painted with shock. Though instead of reacting with anger, as Sakura thought she would her mother reached out once more.

“Sweetie is everything alright? Do I need to bring you to the hospital?”

She held up a hand to stop her advances, and she gave her a shaky smile.

“Sorry mom, I just have post-mission jitters. I’m fine really.”

Her mother remained unconvinced, and as she poised herself to give another concerned reply Sakura clasped her hands with hers.

“Really mom. I’m alright let’s just eat. Okay.”

There was a pathetic desperation in her voice that made her want to stop speaking all together, but as her mother’s arms relaxed from the tension they once had before Sakura knew she just got a free pass.

“Alright. Okay.”

She mustered a nod and hastily walked over to the table. She dug into her food with more gusto than usual despite her stomach lacking the urge to take anything. As Mebuki sat down to eat she could not help but notice the trembling fingers of her daughter and the light dimming from her pale eyes.

“Sakura, you know you can talk to me about anything right?”

“I know.”

The meal passed on in silence, and all the while Sakura tried to stop the trembling of her fingers.

She didn’t succeed.

* * *

 

Days within the village passed on quietly with her parents. Though they kept to themselves, they were watchful and chose to reveal their concern sparingly. She preferred it that way, but their longing was ever present, and all she wanted to do was to go on about her day as if the events that transpired did not occur. Work was a welcome distraction, and she would find in the next few days that it would be all that she was doing.

The day the fifth Hokage awakened from her slumber she was immediately summoned from her tent to tend to her master, but to her surprise it was not her skills that were needed, only her company. Like their leader the village was steadily coming to life once more. People bustled about the dirt beaten paths trying to get from one place to another, she noticed that many of them were volunteers due to the bands they wore upon their arms. The red bands were for those who helped at the medical tent, the green for salvage retrieval, and yellow was for construction. She traversed the non-clan quarters with slight difficulty. More than once she rubbed elbows with her fellow citizens across the narrow paths. In bouts of frustration she wondered why the organization of the civilian quarters were so cramped when there was so much space to go around, but she supposed it had always been that way. Her old neighborhood was just as cramped, and perhaps the people were not used to the sudden amount of free space to avail of, much to her discontent. But how could she complain?

They were in the great in between of days in which tragedy came in waves. Right now they were in the trough of time still reeling from Pain’s attack and now awaiting the war to come. No one knew how long this quiet would last, save for the Hokage and the choice few. By the time she passed the banners that outlined the quarters of the non-clans there was a lot more wiggle room. She was now in the beating heart of the village. Whatever activity she witnessed along the way, it could not compare to the massive movement of people she saw now. Waiting created restlessness and as she stood upon the exposed bedrock, the epicenter of the village, restlessness was being manifested everywhere.

She took one step forward and without warning she was on the ground. She forced her mouth closed to stop the spewing of curses as a dog pack unceremoniously made their way through the paths. She caught a glimpse of the Inuzuka emblem painted upon the back of their harnesses as they dragged packages upon a moving platform. Not long after, Kiba appeared astride Akamaru. He was clearly leading this venture as he barked out orders to the pack. Upon seeing her tousled form, he hastily apologized before speeding off leaving a trail of dust and surprised bystanders in his wake. She sighed and got up. With exasperated strokes she brushed the patches of dust upon her pants and joined the current of people once more.

 It seemed the non-clans were not the only one volunteering for public service. She walked up to a lone food stand and noticed the Leaf emblem painted in stark white painted upon one of its flaps. For a government sanctioned soup kitchen it looked pretty shabby. Children lined up with their empty bowls as an old woman stirred a large pot of boiling soup. Their faces brightened under the noon sun even if their portions looked meager and watered down at best. She declined a bowl when the woman noticed her presence and shuffled away as more people came to the stand. It was clear she underestimated how congested it was going to be today. But there was still time left, she was sure of it. She sent a prayer of thanks to the gods for her mother’s advice on leaving at least an hour before the meeting time. When the crowd began to thin she got up from her seat when she saw large groups coming down from one of several ramps that found on the outskirts of the village.

 A flash of green caught her interest, and she turned her head to see a group of workers about to come her way. She searched the group for the face of her father only to find that he was not among them. Perhaps the batch of salvage workers he belonged too were still up on the sites. There were many members of the Hyuuga clan, no doubt volunteering the use of their Byakugan to find lost belongings and bodies that have yet to be salvaged from the wreckage. Some of the burlier members of the group carried satchels with flags peeking through. They were hazard symbols for bombs painted in the color red, and her thoughts were drawn back to the night before. He came home looking dusty, disheveled, and agitated. Her father was in rare form as he munched upon his meal, and was not as jolly or upbeat as he usually was.

“They didn’t tell us that there were bombs up there, but some of us suspected that there was something wrong. During the attack you could hear explosions everywhere, though some were willing to take the risk not everyone was.  More than once we requested for one of them Hyuuga’s to join us, only to have bureaucratic nonsense shoved in our faces.” He shoveled another spoonful of rice and egg into his mouth and shook his head. “They told me to write at least three letters to make a formal request for help from their clan. We were pressed for time, and none of us could do that seeing that practically everything was destroyed. So, I told them I _would_ write one but I couldn’t seeing my stationary set was five feet below concrete!”

“Kizashi! That was a major clan!”

He waved her off as he took a long gulp of his water.

“Hey, anyone can appreciate a joke. Even if you are some blue-blood, but not these guys. They are stiffs I tell you. Not a single funny bone in their body. In fact I don’t think I ever seen them laugh before and I used to fix plenty of their appliances.”

Sakura looked down and snickered, earning a glare from her mother. But she was not the only guilty party within that tent. She caught a glimpse of her mother studiously shuffling around her rice within her bowl, seeing her daughter’s piercing gaze she offered her a wink and continued to eat her food.

“Gee Dad, I wonder why?” She brought her bowl up and shoveled the few bits of rice into her mouth to hide her smile.

With a look of genuine confusion and exasperation that anyone would find him less than hilarious he passionately exclaimed, “I have a great sense of humor, right Mebuki?”

“Sure, honey.” She sipped her tea and gave her husband an indulgent smile, and before he could inquire as to how great his humor was she smoothly interjected and said, “So what happened next?”

 His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Oh right. So because we couldn’t provide a letter we went on our own. Everything was fine at first. We were all beginning to believe that there wasn’t any danger at all!”

He leaned back and raked his fingers through his silver streaked hair.

“That was when the bomb went off. Some kid accidentally triggered it when we were moving some steel grids away from the sight. Kid almost ended up with shrapnel in his head if he hadn’t moved out of the way in time.”

Her mother reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.”

“So am I.” He intertwined his fingers with hers and suddenly Sakura felt like she was intruding on something private. “Dust was everywhere, we were practically covered in it, but that wasn’t all. You could tell everyone heard it in the village, everyone down there went completely still. For a moment we all thought an all-out panic was going to break out. That was when jonin showed up.”

“Did you get in trouble?” She couldn’t tell if her mother was worried about him or angry at him. But her eyes were drawn back to their joined hands and saw how his thumb drew paths across her skin in an attempt to comfort her.

“Nah, not really. Turns out the best way to get proper assistance is to get something to explode and have someone almost die.”

“What are they going to do about the bombs?”

“Now that the Hyuugas are _finally_ on board, we can really get some work done. If you ever find yourself up there Sakura and you see a red flag just remember one thing. Red means dead.”

And what an abundance of red flags there were. She looked to the edge and saw the red banners scattered amongst the cracked concrete that bordered the village with men and women crawling upon them. From this distance they almost looked like ants crawling over crumbs. Her father was among them probably salvaging whatever could be saved from the perimeter of rubble. He was there from dawn till dusk, and perhaps worked harder than any worker there, though upon asking why he stayed up there the longest out of anyone he only answered her with a smile and a vague reply that neither reassured her or sated her curiosity.

 

When the sun no longer burned as harshly as it once did and clouds began to surface once more, Sakura took that as a sign to join the fray of people once again. She turned her gaze to the two flags flourishing with the wind. The flag of the Leaf Village stood near the Hokage’s tent and it stood in equal height with the Land of Fire’s flag which stood in the center of the administration’s tent. She passed the people congregating at its entrance. Some stood to receive their arm bands for public services, and others waited to receive their ration packages. The latter line naturally had more people, their faces looked dusty and grim, and she noticed that most of them, like herself, wore the white circle of the non-clans stitched upon their backs.

In moments like these you could truly feel the reason why the land was called The Land of Fire, one could not truly say that they were from this land if they were not baptized in heat of the land’s summers. The heat burned her nose and the air was filled with dust. She longed for trees and their blessed shade, the leaves that would be scattered along the road, and the Naka River with its cool water and the dragonflies that flew along its edge. All that was natural was wiped away by the unnatural, and she had witnessed and lived through it all. 

“Sakura!”

She turned and spotted the black head of Shizune standing at the entrance of Tsunade’s tent. She waved her over with a relieved smile upon her face with Ton Ton standing at her side.

“She’s just inside. I’ll be in the Medic Tent if you need me!”

And with a smile she scampered off leaving her at the entrance of her master’s spacious tent. She found Tsunade sitting on the ground a desk piled high with paperwork. Her mouth was turned into an irritated frown with her finger’s restlessly fidgeting upon the table top. She was dressed in her usual attire save for the green haori. Her legs were crossed and pens were scattered across the floor. She took a long gulp from a glass of ice water and with great frustration she shattered the glass. Shards rained sown upon the floor causing Sakura to jump into action to fetch the shards from the tarp covered ground.

“Lady Tsunade! You need to be careful!”

Upon hearing her student’s alarmed voice she immediately brightened and in turn completely disregarded the water drenching the paper upon her desk.

“Sakura! I see Shizune has already dropped off my official baby sitter for the day”

“And it already looks like I already have my work cut out for me” She looked around hoping to see cleaning materials that could be of use.

“Sorry about the mess. I wake up from a coma and I find that that Danzo has made a mess of things. Not to mention the Daimyo and his dukes of court are already walking up my back about the coming war. It turns out the news have caused a bubble to pop in the surrounding provinces, and the nobility are already trying to quell the panic…”

As Tsunade spoke, Sakura cleaned and listened, nodding every now and then as her master ranted up a list of problems that have yet to be dealt within and outside of the village. She could not blame the people for feeling this fear, peace was far and few in between. Many hoped it would have lasted a couple more years, but to hope for something such as that, was futile. In this world, alliances among the neighboring lands had always been fragile. Some could say that the political rifts today could be traced all the way back to the ancient times of the Warring States period. Now it was different. The past wars had been fought over resources and power, but now it was a matter of survival against terror.

 The glass shards clinked together as she gathered them in a single spot, without any regard to the dustpan she was caught off guard by the weight it had and upon finding out the cause as to why, shards of glass were already piled high upon the plastic pan. She estimated that at least three cups had already been broken before she arrived and she made a mental note to convince Shizune to switch to paper cups like everyone else instead of the few china her master had left. She discarded the broken glassware to a lone wastebasket and proceeded to take care of the wet papers Tsunade set aside for her.

“I’ll lay these out to dry for you.”

Tsunade stopped her with a hand upon the papers. “These can wait Sakura. Please, sit.”

There was a familiar feeling settling on her nerves, and she only felt this way if she did a task wrong in front of her hospital supervisor, or if she did something to displease her master. Tsunade watched her with a face that betrayed nothing, and that unsettled her more than her enraged states. She sat down across from her master and folded her legs. She clasped her hands together, and with enough courage met her teachers gaze with her own.

“I did not summon you here to discuss matters of warfare and state, nor did I bring you here to keep me company. I was told by Kakashi that you and Naruto ventured off into unauthorized missions. You both had different goals yet one aspect unites you two. Sasuke. Did you see him again?”

“Yes.”

“I was told that he attacked you in cold blood? Is that correct?”

 She saw Sasuke’s eyes glow in the darkness and her hands began to shake once more.

 “Sakura?”

 “Yes.” She took a steadying breath, and tentatively faced her master head on. “But Naruto saved me just in time. They began to fight and Kakashi pulled me away so that we wouldn’t get into the line of fire.”

“I see, how were your injuries?”

Her palms began to sweat, and she clutched at the hem of her shirt. She mustered a smile and scratched the back of her head.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

She cleared her throat and turned her gaze downcast once more

“And Naruto?”

Her mind started to clear and she was on steady ground once more. She remembered Naruto’s face and his words.

“He still intends to save Sasuke.”

“I am going to be honest here, and say that I don’t like the way that boy affects you two. He drives you both into madness, but I tolerate it because I carry an affection for you and Naruto. But I make no promises on the matter of his, he has been declared an S-ranked international criminal in all major shinobi nations I cannot guarantee that he will be able to live a normal life _should_ the both of you succeed in helping him.”

“Just Naruto.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Only Naruto can save Sasuke. He is probably the only one with a real chance to actually bring him back. Anything I do will only end in failure. However, a part of me doesn’t want him to succeed.” A knot forms in her throat.

“He has promised to die with Sasuke, but what will such a promise achieve. Should he fufill it he will end up breaking every other promise, and he’ll be breaking his word.” A watery smile was plastered on her face. “That idiot never seems to think things through.”

“So where does that leave you?”

“Where does that leave me?” She looked up to see her masters hands intertwined, with her amber eyes painted in a concerned glint. “Those two always had a flair for the dramatic don’t you think? I’m afraid this is a promise that I cannot let him fulfill. They are worth more alive than dead.”

“When I heard Kakashi’s report I was troubled to know that Naruto made such a radical promise. I admire him for it, but he is a fool if he thinks Konoha will allow such a thing. And I care too much for that idiot to see his potential wasted. I believe Mater Jiraya would have said the same. So, I can count on your interference then?”

She found no words to say and so she nodded, hoping to it was enough to convey the resolve she had undertaken. She was the failsafe. The net that ensured the survival of Konoha’s most important assets. She relished the feeling of knowing that she was being useful.

She desperately hoped that it was enough.

But when it came to those boys she was never sure.

“Well then now that I know you are committed. I expect you to train.”

She stood up from her seat and walked over to a corner of boxes. Many of them looked to be covered in dust, and some were haphazardly marked. She heard something break and winced. She hoped it wasn’t anything too valuable.

“Do you need help, my lady?”

“Nah, I got it. You just stay right there!”

Tsunade shouted in triumph and before Sakura could register what was happening the woman slammed a heavy cardboard box upon her desk. She was privately surprised the desk didn’t break beneath the sheer force of her master’s strength.

“These are my personal notes for all the medical jutsus I’ve created for the second-shinobi war.” She crossed her arms, and a pensive frown was plastered upon her face. “I honestly never hoped I would have to use them again.”

Sakura looked down into the box and fished out one scroll among many. She unfurled the yellowed paper and marveled at the detailed drawings as well as the instructions, and explanations written with precision. She wrote the way she spoke, and that was straight to the point without cutting any corners. These were important documents of medical history, and she was dazed by the fact that she had all of them gathered before her in a shabby cardboard box.

“These are amazing. When do we get to train?”

“I’m afraid that you will have to train on your own for this one. However, Shizune will be your supervisor should you need further explanations.”

“Has she ever executed any of these jutsus before?”

She shrugged.

“A couple I believe, but that doesn’t matter.” She reached out and placed a hand upon her shoulder. “Everything that I have taught you up to this point is the foundation of what you see in this box and what you hold in your hand. Study and apply. Do that, and I know you will succeed.”

“Thank you, Lady Tsunade.”

“There is no need. What kind of master would I be if I did not pass on my knowledge to the next generation? Well go on, I expect you to start studying right away.”

She picked up the box and felt something settle on her shoulders that made her want to stand tall yet curl up. These scrolls were proof of what was coming, and she felt the wave was close.

“Oh wait, before you leave I shall impart to you one last lesson. We have the power of the gods and yet we have the flesh of men. It is our blessing and our curse.  Nothing and no one is indestructible. Everyone you love and hold dear is fragile, and anyone, _anyone,_ can be killed.  I truly believe that Naruto is the great hero of our time that will save us all.” Sakura felt a hand at the side of her face, Tsunade was there looking at her with solemn amber eyes.  “But Sakura, who will save him?”

“My lady, may I ask you one last question before I go.”

Sakura saw the burden weigh down her shoulders, and she suspected she looked the same.

“How much time do we have?”

Tsunade closed her eyes and let out one slow breath, and then she saw her amber eyes once more darkened by the knowledge that only she knew.

“Not long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know its taboo, but this is my first attempt to write a novel. Any review will be appreciated and I crave for constructive criticism just as long as it worded politely and fairly. Thank you for reading!


End file.
